1.

Hello, dear pookies who read my story :)

Before we start, I just want to say this is my first story, so please treat it with love and a little patience. especially if you’re coming here after reading my other books.

I was just 18 when i wrote this so… yeah i’m not exactly proud 💀🤚

Even though it’s my first, and yeah, it has its flaws, I’ve seen how much you’ve loved it, so just know it’ll be coming out in paperback soon :) with quite a few extra scenes ✨

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Isaac Nabokov:

Dean Clark:

2. Desperate For A Roommate

Dean

“Carter, you know I’m doing this out of necessity,” I say, frustrated.

“I told you, you can come to my house. My mother wouldn’t have a problem with that!” he yells.

“Should we let your seven-year-old brother see us making out? Please, Carter,” I reply ironically.

“Come on, as if they don’t already know,” I take a deep breath and rub my eyes.

“Why are you suddenly so against the idea of me finding a roommate? Do you think I like the idea of living with a stranger? I just don’t want to give your family a hard time. I want, at least until I finish college, to get some of the expenses off my back because I can’t keep living with two jobs and a damn demanding college.”

“Do you think you’re the only person on the planet who goes to college and works at the same time? Stop acting like you’re some fucking prince who’s being tortured by reality,” he says.

I just stare at him like an idiot.

I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation right now.

This is who I am apparently.

The dramatic, over-the-top boyfriend.

God forbid someone actually wants to have a life and not exist purely on a diet of work, university, studying, and a second job on top.

I’m asking for way too much, I know.

“Sorry, Carter, but with everything you’re saying, the only thing you’re actually doing is making me believe that leaving really is the right choice,” I say, and shut the door behind him.

“Well done, avoiding me just like you avoid the consequences of your choices!” I hear him shouting behind me, and I stop walking.

“Really, you have no idea, do you? I’m trying to balance two jobs and college, and it’s fucking exhausting. It’s not that I can’t take it or that I’m weak, it’s that I want to make things a little more manageable, not dragging myself through each damn day from fatigue and stress. Living with someone doesn’t mean I’m giving up, it means I’m trying to find a solution to reduce expenses and live more comfortably. It’s clear that you don’t feel the weight I’m carrying, and I find that understandable since you’re one of the lucky ones who can live with their parents and have everything ready for them. Sorry, but I could do without your opinion on this matter when you have no idea what it’s like.”

“Alright then, since your new roommate is the solution to your problems, then go,” he replies sarcastically, and I’m left stunned again by his answer.

“Is that all you have to say? I really thought you were smarter than that, Carter. Later.”

I can’t believe that after all this conversation, I couldn’t make him understand my position.

It felt like I was talking to a stranger, not the one who I thought understood me better than anyone.

Obviously, living with a stranger is going to be weird for me. But the fact that I’m going to be living with a man doesn’t fucking mean that I’m going to like him.

Besides, I tried really hard to find a female roommate, I really did, but most of them freaked out at the thought of living with a man because they didn’t think I was -gay enough- for them to believe it.

Other men rejected me right away because they assumed it was obvious I’d be hitting on them.

Yesterday, I talked to a guy, Isaac Nabokov, on the phone. He agreed to live together very quickly. I didn’t even get to tell him that I’m gay. In case he has a problem too.

He seemed desperate for a roommate too.

He’s from Russia, and even though I struggled to understand most of what he said because I think he was cursing at me in Russian in between, he told me that he wouldn’t even be home most of the time.

He sounded pretty convenient.

The fact that he’s out day and night meant that I wouldn’t be bothered by constant late-night parties at home, and I’d be able to work on my projects during my free time, since I wouldn’t be working two jobs.

The distance, though, damn it.

My university is an hour away from the house.

It seems unbelievable that I didn’t find a single available apartment in the area where I am now, although maybe a little distance is good for me and Carter.

From what I saw in Isaac’s ad, the place is worryingly big, and the rent is very, very reasonable.

I unlock the door to my house and place the keys on the counter next to me.

This afternoon I have the meeting about the house. I sigh, a little scared, but more relieved.

3. -The One With The Buzz Cut-

Dean

I’m wearing my white t-shirt and black shorts. I slightly style my hair back. I grab my keys, phone, and after putting on my shoes, I head towards the car.

“Let’s see where Isaac is,” I mutter to myself, slightly excited, searching the house on my phone’s map.

It’s an hour and three minutes away from the solution I was looking for.

I park and look at my phone’s screen, then the house outside to make sure it’s the same. I take a deep breath and open the car door. The house is truly huge.

Could it be a scam, and I fell victim to it? Quite possible.

It even has… a pool. I’m definitely a victim of some scam.

I shake my shirt slightly and ring the bell, but there’s no answer. “It’s open,” I hear a voice from the window. A blonde girl had almost completely come out of the window and waved for me to come inside. What I saw when I entered was definitely not what I expected.

Voices and laughter, intense Russian music shaking the walls, the smell of cigarettes in the air.

A party.

My head already starts buzzing from the noise, and I feel like I want to leave.

Instead, I take a deep breath and dive into the crowd that is dancing to find out who among them is Isaac Nabokov.

I notice the girl who had spoken to me earlier from the window in the distance. In my attempt to reach her, I accidentally bumped into a group that, judging by the smell, was drinking vodka shots.

it’s afternoon…what is wrong with these people.

I accidentally bumped into one of them, and his vodka spilled on me before he could drink it, and I’m sure some of the curses I heard now, I also heard earlier on the phone with Isaac.

Do I regret coming here? Definitely.

After some pushing, I manage to reach the girl.

“Sorry, which one of them is Isaac Nabokov?” I shout in her ear to be heard. “I’ll tell you if you first tell me who you are,” she responds mischievously.

“His new roommate.”

“Lucky bastard. He’s on the couches, in the middle, the one with the buzz cut,” she points to the right, and I get closer to see who it is.

As soon as I spot him, I slightly widen my eyes, surprised. On the couch sat a guy between 23-25 years old, with a girl on his left and a guy about the same age on his right. He was clearly muscular, with every muscle defined beneath the tight black t-shirt he was wearing. His weirdly light blue eyes locked with mine, and suddenly I became fully aware of my imperfections. The tattoos on his neck completed his masculine aura, which made me feel mixed emotions.

I have some tattoos too, but they definitely don’t give off the same vibe.

All the excitement that was on his face had now vanished. He puts his drink down, slowly and painfully getting up as if someone had forced him to do some kind of obligation.

He approaches me, and I swallow hard. “Are you lost?” he asks casually, and I’m left speechless, feeling my blood start to boil.

He didn’t even bother to welcome me, looking at me indifferently as if I ruined his night, and now he’s mocking me too. “I’m Dean. Dean Clark. Your new roommate, whom we were supposed to meet today,” I respond, clearly irritated. “Oh, I didn’t realize you meant today . You can come again though,” he says indifferently and tries to leave, but I grab his hand before he can, something he definitely didn’t expect me to do.

I didn’t expect it either, and I immediately got anxious. “I drove for an hour,” I reply curtly, and he smiles crookedly again.

We spent the next ten minutes with him showing me the rooms and giving me instructions about the house, but all I could think about was how rude and superior he was acting. He had a way of speaking that made you feel small, as if he was doing you a great favor by dedicating his time to you. He constantly had that air of superiority, which, God, how much it annoyed me. I was trying really hard to stay calm every time he opened his mouth to speak.

As handsome as he was, his rudeness was even bigger.

“Thanks for showing me the house,” I say curtly and head towards the front door.

“You’re leaving already? Come on, have a drink. What do you drink?” he asks, putting his hand on my shoulders, but I push it back down.

“I don’t like parties. And to be honest, the only reason I’m here is because I’m really in need. You won’t see me outside my room much,” I reply.

“Why’s that? Are you some kind of hacker or something?” he asks sarcastically, and I decide not to answer.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at 3. It would help me if this wasn’t going on,” I say, pointing at the house, and then walk away.

“Alright, hacker,” he responds.

4. So Rich

Dean

Before I manage to get into the car, I see Liam, one of my closest friends, calling me. “Hey, you there?” he asks, and I grunt. “We’re on our way there with Aria now.”

“Okay, go ahead, but I’m not there,” I say, starting the car. “Did you go for the house?” I hear Aria’s voice in the background. “Not just that. I think my relationship is as screwed as my meeting with the roommate.”

“Damn. How long until you’re back?” “About an hour, if I’m lucky.” “hurry up and come tell us everything.”

I hang up and start driving. I’m afraid to tell them I might break up with Carter. Even though Liam never liked him much, Aria would be deeply hurt.

Even though she scares me sometimes. She always said that if he was straight, she’d want him without hesitation.

That should worry me, right?! It’s like me wanting her man and letting her know, right?!

Carter, on the other hand, doesn’t like either of them. He always considered them too silly for his standards. But I never stopped hanging out with them because they always helped make my miserable days a bit more interesting.

“When I told you the guy was crazy, you didn’t believe me,” Liam boasts, stuffing his mouth with chips.

“Maybe he was just jealous that you’re moving in with someone else?” Aria suggests, trying to justify his behavior. She looked genuinely upset.

“I don’t know. It seemed deeper than simple jealousy. But even if it was jealousy, today confirmed he has nothing to be jealous of. That Isaac guy was completely unacceptable. He didn’t even remember we had a meeting today, and he was throwing a full-blown party at his place.”

“Weird. Do you remember Shayla from high school?”

“The one who had a thing for our principal?” I ask, rummaging through the cupboards to see if I left anything behind.

“Yeah, her. She posted a story today from a party in your new neighborhood. Look.” She shows me her phone, and sure enough, it was that house.

“Well, there’s my new home, ladies and gentlemen,” I say sarcastically. Aria’s eyes widen, and she starts typing on her phone again—this time much faster.

“Dean, by any chance, is your new roommate this guy?”

I lean over to see, and sure enough, it’s Isaac, standing next to a big dog and a flashy car.

“Yeah, that’s the jerk.”

“Should we… know him?” Liam asks, clearly confused, and I nod in agreement.

“You’re kidding, right? You’ve never heard anything about his family?” Aria looks at us incredulously.

“Should we have?” I ask, closing another box.

“His father is Philip Nabokov. They own an oil extraction and refining company in Russia. He has a sister, her name is Vera. He’s 24 and already owns more than a dozen properties in Russia.”

I look at Liam, shocked, and then back at Aria. “How do you even know this stuff?”

“My dad talks about Philip all the time. He’s even in the news sometimes.”

I’m still confused. “If he’s so rich, why the hell does he need a roommate?! He doesn’t seem short on cash—far from it.”

“Well, the Isaac I met didn’t seem like someone who comes from a family like that.”

“It even says here that he’s been a speaker at several international conferences about the future of energy and environmental sustainability. He only moved to Australia this year. Weird.”

“Well, if he brought the dog along, I doubt it’s still alive after seeing what was going on in that house,” I declare.

“Careful you don’t end up in the dog’s place,” Aria quips.

5. What The Hell

Next day - Dean

I take a sip of my coffee and sigh. Closing the last box, I start loading them into the car.

My new room seemed much bigger than my current one. In fact, there wasn’t even a proper room in this place to begin with.

If I lived in a prison, I’d probably have more space than I do now.

I pray there’s peace and quiet in this new house because with Isaac in the next room, I doubt I’ll get any work done. I push my hair back and get into the car.

As small and uncomfortable as this place was, it was still where Carter and I made our first memories together. Right now, my head is full with the move and our fight.

If he’s decent, he should be the one to reach out first because he behaved like a complete jerk.

He knows I’m leaving today, and he didn’t even stop by to say goodbye.

I relax my eyebrows, realizing they were furrowed, and start the car.

At the house.

I grab the first box and head toward the entrance. I ring the doorbell, slightly nervous, while also bracing myself for the worst.

“Come in,” I hear a voice say, and I try to open the door while still holding the box.

As I push it open, I notice something is blocking it from fully opening. Turning my head to the side, I see it’s trash piled behind it.

I take a deep breath and look around the room. Absolute chaos.

Empty pizza boxes—classic. Clothes scattered around? That must’ve taken some effort. Cups and plates littered on the tables and marble floor.

“What the hell,” I mutter to myself, trying to contain my anger.

I turn to look at Isaac, who’s sipping what looks like the leftovers from last night’s mess. “What is all this?” I ask.

He glances around, both indifferent and surprised, as if he just noticed what’s going on in his own house.

“Oh, this? Whatever. Just get settled in your room, and we’ll clean it up eventually. Actually, I could call my housekeeper.”

He speaks calmly, though it seems the words leave his mouth with the same effort it takes for his eyes to stay open.

“Eventually? Seriously? After last night, I expected you to at least show a little decency today. How the fuck are we supposed to live here?”

“Listen, Dean, it’s not my fault you came in with an attitude. Relax, it’s not the end of the world. Grab a drink, you’ll definitely feel better,” he replies nonchalantly.

I look around in frustration. “You’re unbelievable, honestly. What the hell did you even need a roommate for in the first place?”

“Look,” he starts, his tone sharpening, “because you’re starting to annoy me, and I already have a headache—the reason I wanted a roommate is none of your business. If you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

His answer is sarcastic, but his expression suddenly turns serious. Silence follows, and to be honest, I wasn’t planning to leave my room much anyway.

Now he’s just given me another reason not to.

I head upstairs and drop the first box in the room. This is going to take a while. I grab my phone to order some food when I suddenly hear shuffling at the door.

“Go away,” I mutter, choosing to ignore it.

But then I hear a whimper, which catches my attention. I open the door and see the not-so-dead dog wagging its tail furiously before rushing into the room.

I smile slightly, relieved to finally see something good in this house. She sniffs me all over before rolling onto her back with her belly exposed, waiting to be petted. She’s a girl.

I glance at the tag on her collar. “You’re Nala?” I ask playfully, and she barks excitedly.

“How does such a well-kept dog have an owner like him?” I ask myself. Her fur was thick and soft, and she looked freshly groomed.

I hope she visits my room often. A little company would be perfect right now.

I glance around the room. It’s incredibly spacious. The walls are a soft beige, and next to the double bed, there’s a huge window overlooking thousands of houses and even the sea.

I place the first box on the large desk to start unpacking.

Damn, this house is so perfect for me that I feel like I don’t even have the right to complain about anything.

Maybe I was too hard on him. I don’t know. I sigh and continue unpacking.

Two hours later.

I completely forgot about the food. I’m starving. But the only food I see here is vodka and… more vodka.

I grab my phone to order something, but my eyes land on a notification from Carter. My heart starts racing, and I wonder if I should reply. He was such a jerk yesterday.

Still, the fact that he texted first is a good sign.

6. Better Be Careful

Isaac

I squint my eyes halfway shut because the sun coming through the kitchen window was stabbing me like a knife. If someone told me I had a swarm of bees inside my head, I’d believe them instantly with how much it was buzzing.

“What the hell even happened last night?” I mutter to myself while yawning.

I nudge some glasses aside with my foot and slowly get up to head to the kitchen. I drink a glass of water and place it in the sink. The dizziness begins to fade just as I hear my phone ringing.

I glance at the screen and clench my jaw. “Yeah, grandma,” I answer, slightly annoyed. “I’m home, where else would I be?” I reply, staring at the ceiling.

The doorbell rings, and I notice Dean approaching the door, giving me a sideways glance.

“Who’s that? Did you finally get a roommate?” she yells through the phone, and I pull it away from my ear, irritated.

“Yes, grandma, I got one. Like I had any choice in the matter,” I say, shooting another look at Dean, who seems to be searching for something. I’m not sure what.

“I don’t believe you. Put him on the phone immediately,” she demands. “No, I’m not giving him the phone,” I reply. Dean looks at me, startled.

“If you’re lying, I’ll come over there before you even realize it to find out the truth myself.” I glance around. “Shit.”

I turn back to Dean, who widens his eyes and gestures with his hands that he doesn’t want to either. “For a few seconds,” I whisper, handing him the phone. He flips me off in return.

“Hello? Hi, yes, I’m indeed Isaac’s roommate. I just moved in today. My name is Dean Clark. I’m 21, yes. Yes, I’m very happy with the house. No, no, we’re not related at all. Yes, thank you. Bye.”

He hands me the phone back, his expression full of awkwardness. He grabs a plate and serves himself the food he ordered. Damn. Now I’m getting hungry too.

I check the clock. It’s 6:30.

The whole situation was incredibly awkward. “In an hour, someone will be coming over. Just so you know, I’ll clean up this mess so I don’t embarrass myself,” He informs me.

“Why, do you care? Are you two a couple or something?” I ask, laughing sarcastically as I pour myself another glass of water, eyeing him.

“Yes, we are,” he replies.

I start coughing uncontrollably, trying not to choke to death.

Once I manage to pull myself together, I ask, “You’re gay?” Surprised, but I don’t get an answer.

He just stares at me with the same cold expression.

“Damn, man,” I say, smirking. “You better be careful not to fall in love with me.” I laugh, but his expression remains icy, and the awkward silence returns.

I swallow hard, trying to look away for a moment.

I hadn’t done anything wrong, after all; I was just surprised because he didn’t seem gay at all.

“Alright, I’ll leave the space free for you and…?” “Carter,” he adds.

“Carter, right. I’ll head out to eat, and later, I’ll hit the gym. You have my number, but honestly, I’d prefer you not to use it. I don’t want to overhear anything I didn’t ask for.” I state and leave the kitchen.

“By the way,” he adds, “why was your grandma so keen to know if you got a roommate?” I stop walking. “She has her reasons,” I reply and walk off.

I head to my room and grab Nala. “Make sure you keep an eye on hacker and his sweet little boyfriend, okay? Don’t let them cause any trouble.” I pet her and get her ready to go for a walk.

7. I Don’t Like Him

Dean

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and fan myself with my shirt.

It’s during cleaning that you truly realize how big the house is. I’ve already filled three garbage bags, and I’m still only halfway through.

I sit down on the couch to take a break. Isaac walks past me, heading toward the front door.

“You’re welcome,” I call out sarcastically.

“No one asked you to do it, hacker. You put yourself in this position,” he replies, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

His shoulders and back were so broad that the bag looked tiny. Smaller than his brain, really.

The same applied to anything he held in his hands. In general, he just made everything seem miniature next to him.

“And then he died,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What??” I ask, confused.

“I’m talking about you, staring off like you’re lost. You already like me, don’t you?” he asks, and once again, I’m disappointed with what I’m hearing.

“It’d be easier for me to like a woman. So, relax,” I reply.

He pulls a fake sad face, then puts on his shoes.

“One more thing before you leave. There’s a locked room you forgot about, and I can’t clean it,” I say indifferently.

“You’re not going near that room,” he replies while tying his shoelaces.

“I’m serious,” I look at him, puzzled. “Why, does it have drugs or something?”

“Did I make myself clear?” he raises his voice.

“Yeah, what the hell, I wasn’t planning to mess with it. I didn’t even know, and I’m surprised you thought I’d care.”

“Good,” he replies and opens the door.

Carter was just about to knock…

“Well, well, hacker’s sweet little boyfriend.”

“Cut it out,” I tell him, stepping closer to the door.

“Isaac,” he reaches his hand towards him.

Ideally, I wouldn’t want this happening right now. Carter wasn’t looking at him very kindly, which made the atmosphere a bit awkward.

“I’ll leave you to… whatever it is you do,” Isaac says sarcastically before walking away.

The situation had become even more awkward now. “Sorry for being like this; I was cleaning up the mess Isaac left here. I’m so happy you made it here”

“Are you already doing chores for him now?” he asks me, slightly annoyed, and I look at him in confusion.

“I did it for you. I didn’t expect you to take it the wrong way; I just didn’t want you to see everything messy.”

“Alright, I believe you. I didn’t come here to argue, after all. Though I won’t lie, now that I’ve seen the person responsible for our fight, I feel a bit weird.”

Carter makes me feel a bit guilty, to be honest. “The guy’s a loser,” I reassure him and step closer. “You’re leagues above him. I mean it, Carter,” I say, looking into his eyes, and with quick movements, he presses his lips to mine.

That kiss felt… like he got the validation he needed.

“Can I assume we’re cool now?” I ask with a slight smile. “We will be, but first, you’re taking me to the room,” he replies and kisses me again.

“Now we’re definitely cool,” he exclaims, shocked, holding his chest.

I smile proudly.

He grabs his face and frowns. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked it,” I ask, confused.

“I did like it, it’s just annoying that this idiot can have you at his house, and I can’t,” he replies.

“It’s hard for me too, but as long as I stay locked in my room, I think I’ll manage just fine. I’ll come over on the weekends, basically whenever I have the chance,” I answer.

I looked at him intently, and he turned his head toward me.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing, I just missed you,” I say, and he freezes.

“Now that I think of it… Why did he call you a hacker earlier?”

“Nonsense. He thinks I’m a hacker because I said I’d spend a lot of time in my room. Like only hackers stay in their rooms,” I respond, exasperated.

“I don’t like him giving you nicknames.”

“Don’t take it seriously. I told you, the guy’s a total loser.”

“Did he make any move on you?”

“What?! no. I don’t even think he’s gay”

“Alright. Still, I really can’t stand the guy,” he declares, and I look at him curiously.

“Look, neither can I, but what’s your problem with him? You just met him.”

“I don’t know. He makes me feel weird about myself.”

“The fact that you’re comparing yourself to him is beyond me. But let’s not badmouth him too much—I am staying at his house, after all.”

“Not for long,” he replies, and I stand up.

…

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just sure that sooner or later, you’ll change your mind and come back. So, I’m just being patient.”

I stay there, looking at him confused.

“Carter, how many times do I have to tell you that I can’t stay at your house with your family? Don’t you understand that it’s not possible? Stop trying to make everything fit your way and start putting yourself in the other person’s shoes for once. God!

“I would try to see it from your perspective if I needed to, but the solution is simple. You’re the one making it complicated.”

“What is wrong with you?” I yell, realizing I used more force in my tone than necessary.

“This is your fault, Dean. You’re the reason we’re in this situation. And you know what? I don’t even know what I’m doing right now in the house of your new, Russian friend,” he shouts, putting his shirt back on.

What kind of crap am I dealing with? What the hell did I do to deserve this?

He storms out of the room. I quickly follow him.

“Damn it, what’s gotten into you now?”

“Screw you,” he shouts without even looking back at me.

He opens the door and nearly runs into Isaac, who was about to enter the house.

“Screw you too,” he yells at him before storming off.

I lower my head in frustration, letting out a sigh. I glance at Isaac, who looked unnervingly calm.

8. Totally Insane

Dean

An awkward silence lingers for a few seconds.

“Let me guess—you had a fight,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek as he takes off his shoes.

“Yes. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He slowly approaches me, and when our faces are just a few centimeters apart, he starts to smile faintly.

“I don’t want to know either, but tell your sweetheart that if he ever talks to me like that again in my house, he’ll see his teeth flying through the air.”

I stare at him without responding, and then he walks away as if nothing had happened.

I had nothing to say. My heart was pounding so fast, and I felt like my blood was literally boiling.

I take a deep breath and glance around. I also have a half-finished project due tomorrow.

Fantastic.

I’m trying to make my life easier, and all I’m doing is making it even more complicated. I don’t know where to start.

I walk into the room and hurriedly take off my clothes. But no matter how much I stripped away, the weight on me remained the same.

My life right now consists of a demanding university, a miserable job, a problematic roommate, and an almost broken relationship.

I won’t even mention the family issue because I never learned what family is or what it’s supposed to feel like.

It’s definitely not what I experienced.

I rub my eyes and force these thoughts out of my head.

                           * 1 month later *

I get into the car, exhausted from work. My head is pounding, my hands are shaking from the fatigue, but even so, I think of doing something nice.

I call Carter.

“Hey, do you want to go for a drive? I know it’s late, but… I thought it might lift your mood!.”

“Oh, now you remember?” he snaps on the other end of the line, his tone cutting right through me.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that last weekend, we didn’t go anywhere. You left me alone, and now, all of a sudden, you remember I exist?”

I take a deep breath. I’m already drained, and the last thing I need is an argument.

“Carter, I explained why I couldn’t. I had to work overtime; someone quit their night shift, and I’m on a deadline for my project. I didn’t do it on purpose…”

“Yeah, sure. Always excuses. This isn’t the first time you’ve said something like that. I told you, this distance is exhausting. This isn’t normal. You make time for everyone else, but you leave me for when you have leftovers!”

I feel my blood boiling again.

I exhale, trying to stay calm, but the exhaustion doesn’t help.

“What the hell do you want me to do? I’ve been working nonstop! And I’m not ‘making time for everyone else,’ as you put it. You’re the one I want to see, but I can’t just leave my life behind because the time I give you isn’t enough for you!”

“I’m not asking you to leave your life behind, Dean. I’m just asking you to make me a priority. Is that so hard?”

“Carter, you are my priority, but I can’t be everywhere at once! If you can’t understand that, then… I don’t know what else to tell you. What do you want me to do? Quit my job? Drop my project?”

I hear him laugh bitterly.

“Maybe dropping your project isn’t such a bad idea because it’s obvious there’s no room for me in your life anyway.”

His words hit me like a hammer. I hear him take a sharp breath, but I don’t say anything. Every word I say from this point on will either be wrong or useless.

“You know what, Dean? Forget it. We don’t need to go out. Stay and work, like you always do. At least that never disappoints you.”

The line goes dead before I can reply.

I stare at the phone in my hand, my breathing heavy.

Why does everything with him have to be so difficult? Why does every effort I make to get closer to him feel like it’s wasted?

“Yeah, I’m telling you, this situation isn’t working anymore. We’re dragging each other down,” I say into the phone, and Aria sighs.

“I told you! He’s crazy. Totally insane!” Liam yells, and now it’s my turn to sigh.

“What does Isaac think about all of this?”

“Do you think we even talk? We barely say ‘hi’ if we run into each other in the hallway, and when we do talk, it’s just to argue in the kitchen,” I reply, whispering as I glance behind me to make sure he can’t hear.

“He’s distant, sure, but honestly, I’m glad. Every time I talk to him, I end up angry.”

“Are you serious? You don’t realize how lucky you are. I would literally pay to stay with him for just one day. I’m not even joking,” Aria replies, sounding almost offended.

This girl.

“Speaking of paying, I completely forgot about the money situation. I’ve been here for ages, and he hasn’t asked me for anything. And when I tried to give him some, he just left in a hurry and didn’t take it.”

“That man owns more properties than you can imagine. Do you really think he needs your spare change? Honestly, you got lucky. Don’t even complain,” she shoots back.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates. “Carter’s calling,” I say, my tone shifting immediately—not for the better.

I end the call with the others and answer, waiting to hear him speak.

I stare at the camera intensely, but there’s a subtle melancholy in my expression, as if I knew this might be one of the last times I’d see him.

He, on the other hand, is as expressionless as always.

I try to shake off the negative thoughts and focus on listening to him, but the call suddenly ends out of nowhere, and the light in my room shuts off.

Perfect!

9. Did The Power Go Out?

Isaac

12:23 AM.

I had just settled into the living room with a glass of whiskey.

Finally, I could enjoy some peace and quiet after all the paperwork I’d been doing for a new house in Moscow.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

Fuck me.

For several seconds, I stayed still, waiting for the power to come back on. But the darkness remained. I let out a sigh.

“Great,” I muttered, raising my glass.

Dean appeared from the hallway, looking disoriented, holding a flashlight he hadn’t even managed to turn on yet.

“What happened? Did the power go out?”

“Like there was any other possible answer,” I replied dryly.

“No, I decided to turn off all the lights for a relaxing vibe. What do you think?”

“Always so funny,” he grumbled. “Do you know where the breaker box is?”

“I hope you’re joking,” I said, standing up lazily. “You’ve never seen it before?”

“I don’t spend my time looking for breaker boxes around the house,” he snapped, earning an eye roll from me as we headed to the basement where I knew the breaker was located.

The darkness made our movements slow. Dean bumped into a table.

“Ow, dammit,” he yelled.

“Shine the flashlight over here, Mr. Harry Potter,” I teased.

“You’re not helping.”

“Neither are you.”

When we finally reached the breaker box, I opened the small panel and looked at the switches.

Something wasn’t right.

“The main switch is down,” I explained, pointing at the lever that had been flipped.

“Great. And what do we do now?”

“We flip it back up,” I said, but when I did, nothing happened.

I turned to look at him. “You probably burned something out.”

“Me?!” he shouted, trying to keep his voice low, as if someone might overhear us.

“What did I do? You’re the weird one in this house, Isaac. I bet you’ve got bodies buried in the backyard or something.”

“Look who’s suddenly witty. When you’re done being dramatic, we can figure out how to fix this. I have no intention of spending the night down here.”

He looked at me annoyed, and then we started searching with his flashlight for any backup tools or at least… a manual.

Every now and then, Dean muttered something about how unacceptable the house was or how useless I was for not knowing how to fix the breaker.

“Dean,” I finally snapped, “if your mouth works faster than your hands, you can shut the damn thing for a bit.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he replied, but he lowered his tone.

Finally, we found a small box with spare fuses.

I showed him how to replace them, though, of course, he had to make a comment.

“You know, for someone who acts so smart, you take an awfully long time to figure out how these things work.”

“If you’d like, you can do it yourself,” I shot back, and he took a step back.

“No, no, it’s your kingdom, wise repairman,” he said sarcastically but started helping me with the flashlight.

After fifteen minutes and a few curses, the power came back on.

Dean raised his hands triumphantly.

“We did it, unbelievable!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. The only thing you did was hold the flashlight—and even for that, you gave me hell,” I replied.

“Yeah, but if it weren’t for me, you’d still be in the dark!”

“You’re right,” I muttered almost absentmindedly.

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that,” he asked.

“Nothing. Now let me chill in peace. Don’t touch anything else.”

I left him standing there and climbed the stairs back to the living room.

10. He’s Obviously Lying

Three days later - Dean

Today is the day.

I exhale and glance at the clock. Fifteen more minutes until my shift ends.

Thankfully, my job is close to my college, so I save time by going straight to class after work without having to go home first.

It feels like just yesterday when I told Carter I got this job, and look at me now—ready for the worst-case scenario.

Which, honestly, doesn’t even seem that bad anymore.

Carter has changed so much. Over the past month, we haven’t stopped fighting about the stupidest things. I feel like my life will be so much calmer when all of this is finally in the past.

I never thought I’d say that, but I need it more than ever. We agreed to meet today at a square near Isaac’s house. Hopefully, he’ll show up.

5 PM

I hear a loud knock on my bedroom door that jolts me awake, full of questions. Rubbing my eyes, I walk to the door and open it.

“Isaac, what the hell? I was sleeping,” I say angrily.

“Your sweetheart is waiting for you in the living room. I’d have kept him company until you woke up, but with that face he’s pulling again, he’d have definitely gotten his teeth knocked out,” he replies.

I’m confused, as I never said for him to come here.

“Why is he here?” I ask, still trying to piece things together.

“Do I look like a goddamn psychic or something? Or do you think I’d sit down for a chat with him? That guy’s like a Chihuahua trapped in a human body.”

I sigh and head downstairs to figure out what’s going on. I see Carter sitting on a chair, looking like he’s been sentenced to some sort of punishment.

“Hi,” he says flatly, and I wave back, utterly perplexed.

“Hey. Why are you here? We agreed to meet at the square around 7.”

“Dean, you get off work at 3—I remember that. And I didn’t have anything better to do, so I decided to come here instead. You’re not about to tell me you said 7 just to spend more time with the Russian, are you?”

I stare wide-eyed completely shocked. He could not be for real right now.

“The russian was fucking your man until you showed up, asshole!” isaac yells from the other corner, laughing.

That son of a bitch.

Carter runs towards him, with me following right behind. He lunges at isaac like a rabid lion that has found its prey.

What the fuck was that about.

“Carter, calm down, damn it, he’s obviously lying to you!” I shout while rushing to stop him.

But Carter wasn’t looking at me, or hearing me anymore. He was completely in his own world, full of rage.

Isaac, of course, didn’t miss the chance, laughing loudly and raising his hands, as if he was innocent.

“Come on, I’m waiting,” he throws at Carter, who is ready to grab him by the collar again. I run after them , but they were moving so quickly.

I didn’t know what to do first.

Carter grabs Isaac and pins him against the wall. “Dare say that again now, Russian trash.”

Isaac, always more relaxed than he should be, laughs again and wipes the small amount of blood from his neck from the scratches. “Why, does the thought scare you?” he replies with a big smile, looking directly at him.

I seriously might kill Isaac.

This was crossing the line.

It was like lighting a spark in a gas tank. Carter shoves him again, but Isaac, with a quick movement, shakes him off and throws him to the ground.

“Enough!!! You two are acting like babies! Carter, calm down please, you can’t possibly think that he’s telling the truth.”

Isaac can’t shut up.

“Yeah, Dean. Tell him to calm down. You’re probably the only one who can stop him. Or maybe you’re not?”

That was it.

Before I could turn my head the other way, Carter was on Isaac again, gripping him.

“Cut it out, goddamn it!” I scream and grab Carter with all my strength.

I pull him back, but he turns and gives me a look that makes me freeze. It was as if he didn’t even recognize me.

Isaac, though, after being momentarily shocked, quickly started laughing again.

“Okay, okay, stop teddy bear. I didn’t mean to piss you off that much. But damn, that was intense!!”

Carter kept staring at him, breathing heavily, his fist still clenched.

Isaac smiled, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Come on, Carter, there’s the bathroom. Take your time and wash the blood away…” I say and I run down again.

“Why the hell did you do that?” I say hastily, my voice louder than I intended.

Isaac doesn’t even lift his gaze from the spot he’s cleaning

“I don’t like him, if that counts as a reason,” he says indifferently, as if we’re talking about something trivial.

His answer makes my blood boil even more. “It’s none of your business who I like! He’s my person! If you have a problem, keep it to yourself!”

Finally, he looks up at me, his eyes cold and confident, the kind of look that’s always made me want to explode.

“There’s no need to yell, Dean. I can’t take it back. That bastard is lucky he is still alive.”

His words are so detached that I almost feel like the ground is slipping out from under me. I don’t say anything else.

If I do, I know I’ll snap, and I’m not giving him that satisfaction. I I rush back upstairs, carrying Carter’s things with me.

When I reach the bedroom, I close the door behind me with a dull thud.

Carter’s phone buzzes on the nightstand.

For a moment, I ignore it, but curiosity gets the better of me.

I glance at the screen.

Max’s name pops up.

I know Max. He’s part of Carter’s circle; I’ve met him a few times.

I grab the phone and open the message.

“I miss you. Is this over already?.”

11. Paranoid

Dean

My blood runs cold. I don’t want to believe it. This can’t be what I think it is. But the truth is relentless, staring back at me.

Without thinking, I unlock the phone and start scrolling through their conversation.

There’s more.

Carter and Max have been exchanging flirty, intimate messages, messages filled with betrayal.

But what hits me the hardest is how Carter talks about me.

“I don’t care,” he’d written. “He’s probably already cheating on me with Isaac. So, it’s not unfair if I do this with you.”

I can’t breathe for a moment. I don’t know what to feel first, rage, sadness, or disbelief?!

The phone trembles in my hand. I can’t stop staring at that line.

Carter thought… that I…

The door opens, and Carter walks in, catching me with his phone in my hands. He stares at me.

“This is fucking perfect,” he says sarcastically, venom dripping from every word.

The phone is still on the bed.

I turn to him, and all the anger that’s been simmering inside me explodes.

“Perfect? You call this perfect? Me? I’m the problem here?” I yell, standing up.

“You talk about perfect when you betrayed me? You humiliated me over a fucking suspicion! Because you made up something in your sick head!”

“Seriously, Dean? Are you really going to make yourself the victim now? There’s definitely something going on between you and Isaac! Am I supposed to just—”

“No! Fuck No ! You don’t get to pin this on me, Carter!” I cut him off, my voice shaking with fury.

“You’re so fucking paranoid you created an entire story in your head! Nothing happened! Absolutely fucking nothing! And yet you found the perfect excuse to cheat on me. You just had to find a way, didn’t you? To do exactly what you’ve always accused me of!”

Carter stares at me, his expression hardening, but I’m not done.

“You! You, who threw fits over every little thing! You, who’s always been the hysterical one in this relationship, who made my life hell just to prove to you I didn’t have eyes for anyone else! And now? Now I’m the one reading this!” I point at his phone lying on the bed. “And all because of what? Because of some assumption! You didn’t even bother talking to me! Why would you? It was easier for you to betray me!”

“Dean…” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

“No! Don’t say another word! You have absolutely nothing to say! Nothing that can justify what you did!” I shout so loudly I feel my voice crack. “You’re a mess, Carter! Something is seriously, seriously wrong with you! It’s not normal to destroy something good just because you can’t deal with your own insecurities!”

He keeps looking at me, and for the first time, his eyes lose their edge. But I don’t care anymore.

“Get out. We’re done. You’re disgusting.”

My voice is steady now, cold. I’m leaving no room for argument. He opens his mouth to speak, but I raise my hand.

“Leave, Carter. I mean it. And please, please, for the love of God, don’t ever talk to me again.”

I turn my back on him, and I hear him take a breath. I don’t know if it’s to speak or to try and say something. I don’t care. Not even a little bit.

He opens the door, and runs down the stairs.

“This is still your fault”  he shouts to Isaac.

“Bye bye!” Isaac replies nonchalantly.

I can’t fucking believe what just happened.

I sit on the bed with my hands on my head, trying to calm down, but the anger and disappointment are overwhelming.

It feels like the room is closing in on me, suffocating me.

The door opens slowly, and I know who it is before I even look.

Isaac stands in the doorway, leaning against the wall, as relaxed and indifferent as always.

“You don’t need to thank me for humiliating him one last time,” he says, his voice dripping with insinuation. “Or for being right all along.”

I lift my head to look at him, exhaustion and anger etched on my face.

«Don’t think I’ve let go of the fact that I’m still mad at you for what you did earlier. But honestly? I’m so fucking furious with Carter right now that I don’t even have the energy to get into it with you.“

Relief flashes across his face, though he tries to hide it. “So… you actually broke up?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but his tone betrays his satisfaction.

I stare at him for a moment, my gaze filled with sarcasm. “Is that a serious question? In case you missed it, yes. Of course, we broke up.”

“Good” he says, his voice so self-assured it irritates me more than it should. “Maybe next time, try finding someone…a little less mentally ill.”

“I don’t need advice from you, Isaac,” I snap back.

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Then do me a favor and don’t,” I say, turning my eyes back to the floor.

I don’t want to keep this conversation going.

Isaac stands there for a few more seconds, like he wants to say something else, but he eventually turns and walks away.

And I’m alone again.

12. That Bastard

Dean

I turn on the water, letting the warm stream fill the bathroom with steam. I step under the shower, letting the water cascade over me.

It feels like it’s washing away everything that’s been clinging to me. Carter, the fight. all of it.

And the weird thing? I’m not sad. I’m not even angry now.

It’s like something that never really existed just disappeared. Like I’d been tied to an invisible chain I never realized was there until it snapped.

For the first time, I actually feel free.

I step out of the shower, towel off quickly, and pull on a clean pair of shorts.

I have no desire to do anything else right now. I lie back down in bed, pulling the covers over me.

Tonight, I have work to do. A project I need to finish. But for now, I let my thoughts fade away, along with the emotions I once thought mattered.

1 hour later

“That bastard.” I get out of bed and head toward the lower floor, the source of the noise pollution.

I approach the stairs and descend, furious. I search for Isaac among all the chaos.

The house, apart from the already irritating noise, reeked of weed.

I grimace.

I finally spot him on a bench, and he’s cornered a dark-haired woman.

I grab him by the arm and turn him towards me, looking at him in confusion, and he looks back at me with even greater confusion.

Moments like these remind me why I haven’t liked him all this time.

“What the hell? When did you even manage this?’” I ask critically, and the dark-haired woman starts muttering something in Spanish, throwing me a sideways glance, but I decide not to stress about her because my focus now is Isaac.

It seems like I need to start getting used to this.

“Want a drink? It’ll lift your mood after today with the—”

He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence before I slap him, leaving him both shocked and annoyed at the same time.

“Why the fuck does everyone keep hitting me?” he protests, laughing, but I don’t laugh at all.

“Do not talk about my personal life here,” I reply to him. “Fine, sweetheart, but you do need the drink. You seem tense.” He answers and then drinks what was supposedly meant for me, while staring at me.

“How much have you had to drink?” I ask without even knowing why.

“Two glasses. I swear. And now, if you could excuse me, there are serious matters happening here.”

He turns back to the girl, who doesn’t waste the opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

Ew.

I try to calm myself again and take advantage of the situation. I head to the kitchen and grab as many snacks as I can fit in my hands from everything these people brought.

“If they’re drunk and hungry, maybe they’ll leave earlier. Genius move,” I mutter to myself.

I head back upstairs, but my eyes land on a drunken couple trying to get into the locked room.

I am staying calm, wondering what I’ve done so wrong to deserve this in life.

I place the food in a corner on the stairs and approach them.

“If I were you, I don’t know if I’d dare,” I say, holding back my laughter.

It’s not something I’d normally do, but they’re both so wasted from drinking that the whole situation becomes hilarious to me.

The woman looks at me in the eyes. “Why is it locked? What are you hiding?” The man laughs, stumbling. “Yeah, what’s in there? A corpse?”

I smile slowly.

That bastard Isaac doesn’t even deserve what I’m doing right now, but on the other hand, Carter deserved the beating in the end.

So, I’ll do this as a gesture of goodwill. I’ll just do it my way.

“A corpse, huh? Not exactly,” I say calmly. “But if I tell you the story of the room, you might not want to go in so much after all.” Their expressions change, and I nod, pretending to be serious.

The woman looks at me with a half-smile, as if trying to figure out whether I’m serious or just messing with them. Perfect.

“It belonged… to Isaac’s grandfather,” I say calmly, my voice full of dark certainty. “But he died in there… and no one has entered since. Even the neighbors sometimes say that, at night, the light flickers on and off by itself, and they see shadows inside the room. Those who dared to go in…” I step closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “They say they never came out the same.”

Their faces change. The woman’s eyes widen, and the man tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out naturally. Their drunken state has made them more gullible than they’d normally be, and I’m absolutely enjoying it.

“Seriously?” he asks, trying to sound indifferent.

I take a step back, raising my hands as if to say, “Not my problem.” “You don’t want to believe me? Your choice. If you want to try, go ahead. Just… don’t say no one warned you.”

The woman grabs the man’s arm. “Don’t you dare. Let’s leave.”

“Yes…” I say mockingly, watching as they almost run away, and I can’t help but laugh.

No matter how angry I am with Isaac, this little theater truly lifted my spirits.

I grab my food again and head back to my room, feeling satisfied.

13. You awake?

2:00 AM - Dean

I take a sip of my second coffee and grab my phone as it vibrates.

ISAAC:

You awake?

I read the message but don’t reply.

Instead, I continue working on my model. I’ve already wasted enough time for his sake. Suddenly, I hear the door swing open, and I turn my chair around, confused.

“What the hell are you doing here? If I wanted you in my room, I would’ve answered your text.”

“I’m bored, so I thought I’d come see what my roommate’s up to,” he says, walking toward the mirror.

He starts flexing his muscles at himself.

What a freak. Pathetic.

“If you’re bored, go clean up the mess downstairs. I’ve got a lot of work to do here.”

“Relax, everything will get done in time,” he says with a grin.

After finishing his little personal show, he comes and sits on my bed.

“Great, now I’ll have to change my sheets,” I mutter.

“You’re no fun.”

“Never claimed I was.”

He looks around the room, then at my desk.

“What are you making there?” he asks, with a tone like he’s five years old.

“For university. It’s a project. It’s a model for a building I have to design, and I want to get every detail perfect. Something that combines traditional and modern architectural elements, emphasizing functionality and aesthetics. But of course, nothing can ever go right for once. I bought all these brushes, all these tools, and none of them give me the precision I need for the finishing touches and textures, and it’s got me really upset. The presentation is tomorrow. Nothing’s going right in my life.”

I stop talking, realizing I’ve been saying way more than I should to someone I can barely stand to look at.

Isaac seems confused and deep in thought.

“So, you’re not a hacker. You’re a craftsman.”

I glance back at my desk, disappointed.

“Is this really so important to you?” he asks.

“Of course, it is, Isaac. I love what I do, even if it sometimes gets really hard. But why am I even telling you this? Whatever, go to sleep. You look exhausted. Not that I care, but you’ll need your energy for tomorrow to clean up the mess downstairs, which I’m definitely not touching this time,” I say, turning my chair back toward the desk.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and jumps up.

What the hell was that about?!

Minutes pass, and there’s no sign of Isaac.

He probably fell asleep on some couch. But then I hear the door again.

No way he’d do me the favor of staying out.

He walks in slowly and approaches the desk somewhat hesitantly. He pulls his hand from behind his back and shows me a fine, very thin wooden brush.

“Will this do?” he asks softly.

I look at it, confused.

Very confused.

I carefully take it in my hands and inspect it. It has dried paint on it.

“You paint?!” I ask, surprised.

But instead of answering, he just shakes his head.

“Then how—?”

“I just happened to have it, and you seem like you need it. So, I’m lending it to you.”

I look at the brush again and then at him.

It was definitely the right tool, but I struggled to admit it.

“Thanks,” I finally say.

“No problem,” he replies, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. Isaac swallows hard and breaks the silence.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go to my sister’s place to bring Nala back. I’ll be dead tired after such a long drive, so make sure I don’t come home to find Carter here.”

“Wasn’t today enough proof for you that we broke up?”

“You seem like the kind of person who puts up with all kinds of bullshit, including mine. It wouldn’t surprise me if you tolerated that too,” he says, and I don’t know if his statement makes me angry or thoughtful.

At least he acknowledges he’s a pain in the ass.

“Congratulations if you really did it, though,” he adds and leaves the room.

I’m pretty confused. Then, a sudden realization hits me.

I open the door and step out into the hallway.

“Isaac?” I call, and he turns to look at me.

“Sorry about earlier… with… the slap. I just panicked,” I say softly.

He starts walking toward me slowly, deliberately.

“You know, if you wanted me to stop that badly, there were plenty of more… effective ways, sweetheart. But I guess your way had its own… charm,” he says, smirking wickedly.

I glance at the wall.

What the hell? And what’s with the sweetheart thing, damn it.

14. Cancelled Flights

The next morning - Dean

I wake up abruptly. My alarm is ringing non-stop while I’m trying to figure out where I am.

I look at the clock… 8:45.

DAMN IT! The presentation is at 9:30!

I jump out of bed like I’ve been electrified. I throw on the first clothes I see in my closet. With my toothbrush in my mouth, I search for my notes, my bag, and the model.

The model!

I look around like an idiot. It’s on the desk.

I rush into the kitchen. I push aside a few glasses from last night and quickly pour some coffee from the coffee machine into a cup.

I rush back to my room, grab the model and my bag, and head out the door.

The car is parked across the street, and as I run, I feel the model slipping slightly in my hands.

I get into the car and place it on the passenger seat as steadily as I can.

If something happens to it, I’m done for.

I drive off in a hurry, not even checking if another car is coming.

Thankfully, the road is quiet. At one turn, I brake a bit too hard because a pedestrian suddenly stepped into the street.

Jesus.

The model slips and falls onto a bag I had placed on the passenger seat floor.

My heart stops.

I glance down quickly while driving and see that the top part of the model is slightly bent. I pull over to the side of the road.

I grab the model and try to straighten the part that got bent with my hands.

It’s not perfect, for sure, but at least nothing important was damaged. I start the engine and continue on.

I arrive at the university and run up the stairs with the model in my hands, trying not to shake it too much.

As I enter the room, I feel several eyes on me.

The professor is already there, but it seems he hasn’t started yet.

I manage to reach my seat and place the model on the desk in front of me without causing any more damage. Now, all that was left was to wait for the presentation to start.

I finally take a deep breath.

Isaac

I get up from the bed, feeling slightly dizzy. I rub my eyes and drink the water sitting on my nightstand in one gulp.

I head to the kitchen. The place was truly a complete mess.

I spot a note from Dean: “At least clean up the food. Don’t let Nala eat it.”

Nala… right…

If the dog gets into all this leftover food, we’ll end up with an overweight dog and an even heavier vet bill.

I glance around the room again, refill my glass of water, and start cleaning.

I toss all the bottles into the trash can, the dishes into the sink, and the leftover food into a plastic bag.

I’m not sure if I’m cleaning because I have to or because Dean’s note annoyed me in some strange way, but whatever it was, it’s done now.

I get ready and get in the car to head to Vera’s house.

It’s been a while since I last saw Nala, but Vera loves her so much that she convinced me to leave her at her place for a while.

The thought of her being away from me for so long bothers me more than I’d like to admit.

When I arrive, Vera greets me with a smile.

“Hey there, little bro. Came to take your kid back?” she says, and from behind her, my girl appears, wagging her tail like crazy.

I kneel down, hug her, and pet her. She’s so excited that she can’t stop moving.

“How’s it going? Any news from Russia?” I ask Vera as I sit on the armchair, still petting Nala.

“Actually, yes, I do. Very good news, in fact. It was really hard convincing them to keep it a secret from you because I wanted you to hear it from me,” she says, and I look at her, full of curiosity.

“…Are you going to tell me, or will you let me die of suspense first?” I reply.

“Well… I found out that the legal issues we had with that plot of land… they’ve been cleared!!! You can buy it at the price you agreed on with Mr. Sovetsky. It’s yours, Isaac!” she exclaims, and I nod, trying to hide my smile.

“It was about time,” I manage to say.

“That’s all you’ve got to say? I’m telling you that after all this time, it’s finally yours, and you could at least show a little joy!” she says, shoving me playfully.

I am happy. Truly.

I’ve practically poured my soul into securing that plot of land.

But it’s like I don’t know how to properly react to moments like these.

“I am happy, but I’m surprised he agreed. That bastard made my life hell for so long. What made him change his mind?” I ask, heading to the kitchen to rummage through her food.

“I don’t know, probably grandma worked her magic again and changed his mind,” she says.

Of course, it would be grandma.

I didn’t particularly like that method, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

I already owe her a favor for the house I’m living in now.

If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have made it.

“If you’ve got time, head to the office now to sign the necessary documents, and then come back here,” Vera says, and I nod, not having anything else planned.

I head to the office, and after finishing the paperwork, I learn something that makes my blood boil.

After I signed the documents for the property, the employee looks at me with a serious expression. “Mr. Nabokov, there’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” I ask cautiously, as that phrase rarely comes with good news.

“The house you rented to the Lebedev family is facing several legal issues. Your name is tied to the property, and if you don’t pay the required compensation, you’ll be facing worse legal consequences.”

I don’t respond immediately, trying to suppress my anger. “I don’t live in that house anymore. Why am I the only one obligated to pay?”

“As I said, the house is still under your name, and as far as I know, it’s not the only one,” he says, looking at me like he’s silently saying, ‘I know money isn’t one of your problems.’

He’s not wrong, but his tone irritates me.

“Fine. Send me the required amount to my account, and I’ll take care of it later today,” I say, and leave the building.

When I return to Vera’s house, she asks, “…Do you think it’ll be a big amount?” while sipping her tea.

“Certainly not so big that I can’t handle it. I’m Isaac,” I reply, and she rolls her eyes, laughing.

“Now that’s the spirit. By the way, I didn’t ask—what are you doing for Christmas since you’re not going to Russia?”

I turn to her, confused. “Why wouldn’t I go to Russia?”

She looks a bit startled.

“Isaac, have you been watching the news lately? Flights to Russia have been canceled for a few days. With their snowstorms, nothing’s flying. It’s too risky,” she says, and I sigh in frustration.

“Dammit. I didn’t know that,” I mutter, disappointed, because no matter how tough I seem, deep down, what I need is my Russian grandmother’s food, but instead, I’ll have to stay here.

“What are you going to do?” I ask her. “I’m going to Greece, to Alexander’s family house…”

“Right…” I say, nodding slowly.

“I’ll see what I do. It’s 6 o’clock. I need to go because I want to be home around 8, to buy some meat before the store is closed. Thanks for looking after Nala,” I say, smiling lightly.

“Bring her back to me, I’ll miss my little girl, my love, my treasure.”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupt. “You’ll get her back. See you, Vera,” I say and close the door behind me.

“We got two things today, Nala. Yes, yes, we’re rich now. One is you, and the other is a little plot of land on the ancestral grounds,”

I talk to her as I pet her, and she gets happy, even though she probably has no idea what I’m talking about.

15. RUN!

Dean

I stand in front of the professor with the model carefully placed on the table.

He begins observing it silently for a few seconds, and this is always the most nerve-wracking part because I never know what he’s thinking.

Then he lifts his gaze and starts speaking.

“Dean, your approach is interesting. I can see you’ve worked quite a bit with the levels and scale, which provides a very clear representation of the structure. Let’s start with the positives.”

He gently picks up the model and points to the central feature, the spiral ramp leading to the floors.

“This idea is truly clever. The movement here creates a sense of flow within the space, which aligns well with your concept. I also appreciate how you’ve incorporated natural light through the openings—it’s clear that you’ve considered how users will experience the space, which shows maturity in your design.”

He sets the model down and folds his arms. Now comes the hard part.

“However, there are some issues we need to address. First, the choice of materials in your model makes it a bit harder to read. For instance, the cardboard you used for the walls is quite thick, which reduces the precision in the details. Perhaps try a thinner material for a cleaner result. Also, the joints seem a bit rough in some places. It might have needed a bit more time to smooth out the edges. Do you understand?” he says, and I nod in agreement.

“Another observation is that your model doesn’t connect as well as it should with your accompanying drawings. For example, some elevation details aren’t as apparent here. Make sure next time that your model explains the design more clearly, without requiring too much verbal explanation from you.”

He pauses to think about how to conclude. “Overall, Dean, you have a very solid foundation here. The design is thoughtful, and your ideas are strong. With a bit more attention to detail and the connection between elements, I think you can elevate your work significantly. Keep this up and aim for precision and completeness.”

I nod, and I can finally breathe again. It wasn’t a perfect critique, but it definitely wasn’t a bad one—especially considering I made half of the model while practically sleepwalking. I smile, almost satisfied, and watch the rest of the presentations.

                                   Isaac

I finally step into the house.

What is with this heat in here?!

I walk over to the air conditioner to turn it down. Surprisingly, Nala runs toward Dean, who’s sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to something on his phone.

When he sees her, though, he leans down and pets her.

I had to tell him about Christmas. Damn it.

I could already picture the sarcastic look on his face. Maybe he wasn’t thrilled about spending Christmas here with me either, but honestly, I couldn’t care less.

“Dean,” my voice comes out sharp. He slowly turns his head toward me, raising an eyebrow like he can’t even be bothered to look at me.

“My Christmas plans are ruined. There are no flights to Russia, so I’m not leaving,” I say, tossing my bag onto the couch before storming toward the kitchen, annoyed. The silence that follows is infuriating.

“…Okay? And what do you want me to do about that?” His voice is completely indifferent, almost cynical, which only pisses me off more.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you could pretend you don’t hate me for one day—or better yet, three. Actually, you don’t have much of a choice since I’ll be spending Christmas here. With you.”

He gets up from the couch with a slow, almost deliberate movement, staring out the window.

“It’s not like I had any plans for Christmas either,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.

“Believe me, Dean, staying here wasn’t my choice,” I snap back.

We exchange looks, neither of us backing down. The room, out of nowhere, feels heavy with tension.

Maybe Christmas isn’t that special after all, just another day at home, but with more food.

12:00 AM

Crap. I’d completely forgotten about the food while Nala was gone…

Great. And it’s midnight.

I glance at her and sigh.

Poor girl.

I put on my shoes and yell to the idiot in the living room.

“I’m going to the mini-market. Do you need anything?” I ask, annoyed at myself for even pretending to care.

Within seconds, I see him coming downstairs, all cheerful and wearing… Christmas pajama pants.

I’m going to die of embarrassment.

“What exactly are you doing? And what is that?” I ask, my face full of disappointment.

“I’m coming with you because I need things, and if I tell you, you’ll get the wrong stuff. And as for the pants, it’s December tomorrow,” he says, almost proudly.

I roll my eyes, open the door, and ignore him.

Half an Hour Later

“Are you trying to act tough by carrying the dog food yourself?” I ask Dean, who’s holding a 5-kilo bag of dog food like it’s a trophy.

“No, I just want Nala to see I’m the one holding it so she comes to me first when we get home,” he replies, and I’m convinced I’m dealing with a lunatic.

As we walk down the narrow streets, distracted by Dean’s ridiculous comments every few seconds, I don’t notice the sketchy guys getting dangerously close to us.

By the time I realize, it’s too late. There are three of them, faces covered.

Classic.

They start talking, their tone suggesting they have nothing to lose. “If you want to leave here quietly, just put everything you’ve got down, nice and easy, you little shits,” one of them says.

I freeze, staring at him. I knew how to stay calm in situations like this; what I didn’t know was how to deal with Dean.

I turn to him slowly, speaking as calmly as I can. “Dean, uh… don’t do anything stupid. We can’t afford it. Let them take whatever they want and stay calm.”

Of course, I might as well have been talking to a fucking brick wall.

Before I can even take a step back, Dean raises the bag of dog food and smashes it over the head of the guy talking to us.

The guy seems more hurt from the fall than the food, but still.

The other two freeze for a moment, as do I, before they snap out of it and start running toward us.

Dean looks at me with a dumb smile, like he’s just done something brilliant.

“Run!” he yells, and before I’ve even processed what’s happening, I’m sprinting after him like a lunatic through the night.

We just run. There’s nothing else in that moment.

My heart feels like it’s about to burst, and I don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline or Dean’s unimaginable stupidity.

I want to scream at him, stop him, grab him by the sleeve and hand him over to the thieves to leave me alone.

“Are you insane?!” I yell, still running. “Stop talking, just run!” he shouts back, glancing over his shoulder to make sure I’m keeping up.

Suddenly, he takes a sharp turn into an alley and yanks me along with him. I nearly slam into the wall, but before I can catch my breath, he presses me against it and signals for me to stay quiet.

My breathing is heavy, my head pounding, and I can hear the guys passing dangerously close by. I do everything I can to stay silent, but for some reason, I can’t stop thinking one thing.

This is… kind of fun. It’s driving me crazy. It makes me feel like a kid again, and I hate it and love it all at once.

I look at him, still panting as we wait silently for the thieves to move away. I want to say something—to yell at him, really, but all I manage to blurt out is, “You’re insane.”

He turns to me, looking triumphant. “Look at us, though. Still alive.”

I don’t answer. My thoughts go to Nala.

“What’s the dog gonna eat?” I whisper, pressing my hand to my forehead in frustration because I’d completely forgotten about that. “There’s a can in the cupboard under the sink, behind the bottles of oil,” he replies.

I stare at him, almost horrified but also relieved. “Are they gone?” I ask.

He peeks out cautiously. “I think so.”

“Great, then get off me because you’re way too close,” I snap, and he finally backs away.

16. I Like Shutting You Up

Dean

Our footsteps echo through the dark streets.

Isaac walks ahead with his usual calm demeanor, while I trail behind him, trying to push aside the fear that had paralyzed me moments ago.

Suddenly, Isaac turns his head slightly towards me.

“What made you think of it? Running, I mean. You’re not usually the type who makes decisions like that.” he says to me.

I lift my gaze, trying not to show how caught off guard I am by the question. It’s strange-like he’s looking at me more closely than usual. “I’m not an idiot, if that’s what you’re implying. They had knives, and we had nothing. It was the only logical choice.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Logic isn’t exactly your strong suit.”

I take a deep breath, laughing sarcastically. “Says the guy who thinks he can solve everything with his serious face. Someone had to do something, Isaac. You couldn’t just stand there like a statue.”

Isaac doesn’t reply right away.

We keep walking, and I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. I start talking faster, like I need to explain myself. “Look, I know it wasn’t a perfect plan, but… I’m not useless, OK? I saw an opening and—”

Suddenly, Isaac spins around, grabs me by the shoulder, and clamps a hand over my mouth. His body presses against mine, and I stare at him in surprise, ready to protest.

But then I hear what he heard. Footsteps, and their voices. Heavy, slow, dangerously close.

I hold my breath.

Isaac glances at me, pressing a finger to his lips to signal silence.

We stay frozen, pressed into the corner, as the men pass by just inches away. My heart pounds like crazy. When the sounds fade away, Isaac pulls his hand off my mouth, and I take a deep breath. Before I can say anything, he speaks first.

“You know, I think I like shutting you up. I should try it more often.” he says while he smirks slightly.

I stare at him, trying to come up with a response.

His comment leaves me speechless for a few seconds.

The smug look in his eyes is impossible to ignore. I scramble to recover. I look at him with a look of disbelief. “You’re absolutely insane. There’s no way you…You know what? Forget it.”

He crosses his arms, wearing that infuriatingly confident expression

“Are we going to make it home, or are you just going to stand there staring at me like you’re lost?” I grit my teeth, managing to hold back a retort, and start walking again, with him following behind. I can’t decide if I want to yell at him or laugh. Maybe both.

The door closes behind us. The house is dark and quiet, but I can still feel the adrenaline running through my veins.

Isaac takes off his coat with a calm movement and looks at me with that indifferent gaze that always gets under my skin.

“You’re still shaking.” he says. I laugh it off and try to hide the tremor in my hands. “It’s called adrenaline . Look it up sometime.”

“Adrenaline doesn’t usually make people talk as much as you do. You never shut up, even when we’re hiding for our lives.” he calmly says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, maybe next time I’ll let you come up with the plan, Mr. Perfect. You know, the one where we stand there and get stabbed?”

Isaac lifts his gaze from the couch, his eyes piercing. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Barely.” I reply sarcastically.

“Thanks for that heroic move back there, by the way. Really enjoyed having your hand over my mouth like I was some damsel in distress.”

“You’d make a terrible damsel. Too loud, too fidgety.”

I cross my arms and glare at him, half annoyed. He seems to be enjoying this.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” I mutter.

“And yet, here you are. Still standing in the same room as me.”

“Because I live here, genius .”

He tilts his head slightly, his tone turning more serious “Maybe. But you could’ve left anytime. You didn’t, sweetheart

.

“

I stop. The shift in his tone surprises me. Maybe because, for once, it feels like he’s saying something more. I’m not sure what to say.

I am completely avoiding eye contact and changing the subject.

“Whatever. I’m starving. You want anything?”

“Just make sure you don’t burn the place down while you’re at it.” he answers ironically.

I sigh and head to the kitchen, trying to ignore the fact that he always has the last word. But, for some reason, it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.

Actually, now that I think of it, it does bother me, i’m just not in the mood to talk more.

Next morning

I get off work and head straight to my car, feeling excited because I plan to go buy a Christmas tree. I was thinking about how Isaac’s house is always dark—literally and figuratively. Completely depressing.

Last night, while I was sitting in the living room, I had an idea. I found a store with some pretty impressive trees, so I decided to bring the magic of the holidays into his personal dungeon.

I place the tree I bought in the back seat, feeling quite proud of it. Sure, it’s plastic, but it was the best I could find on sale, along with a bag full of Christmas ornaments and lights.

When I finally get home, Isaac looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What’s all this?” he says, crossing his arms.

“Well, it’s called Christmas spirit. You may not have seen it before, but it’s pretty widespread this time of year,” I answer, placing the tree in what I think is the perfect spot.

“I don’t decorate trees,” he says bluntly. “Don’t worry, you won’t do it alone. We’ll do it together. Your house needs some color,” I say as I set the bag of ornaments down and start fluffing out the tree branches.

He watches me skeptically, raising an eyebrow as if he’s waiting for me to give up and leave. “You’re going to help. Don’t just sit there like a potted plant,” I tell him, looking over.

“I didn’t ask you to bring it,” he replies.

“Yeah, but now it’s here, so you don’t have a choice. Come on, take this and fluff it out,” I say, handing him a branch.

He stares at me for a few seconds, then sighs and comes over, grabbing a branch reluctantly.

“You’re doing it wrong,” I point out.

“Oh, are you an expert on plastic trees?” he says with a smile full of sarcasm.

“Yes, I am. Watch how it’s done,” I reply, taking the branch from his hands and fluffing it properly.

“You’re insufferable,” he mutters, but I catch a faint smile as he turns away.

We keep working, with me giving him instructions every three seconds and him throwing sarcastic remarks back at me.

When it’s time for the ornaments, I watch him grab a garland and toss it carelessly onto the tree.

“Seriously? What’s that supposed to be?”

“A garland,” he answers.

“That looks like it fell off the tree. You don’t drape it like that,” I tell him.

“Dean, if you don’t like it, decorate it yourself,” he snaps.

“Look, you do it like this. It’s not hard,” I say, wrapping the garland more evenly.

“Oh, of course, now it looks so much better,” he says in the most sarcastic tone he can muster.

And so the next half hour goes by with me doing everything perfectly and Isaac mocking me the whole time. But when we finally place the last ornament, I step back, looking at the tree with satisfaction. “There. It’s not so bad,” I say, smiling proudly.

Isaac stares at it for a moment and shrugs. “I guess it’s not that bad.”

“That might be the closest thing to a compliment I’ve ever heard from you,” I reply, surprised. Now the house finally looks a little alive.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks flatly.

“Why? Am I keeping you from something?” I reply mockingly. “I have to go to the gym, take a shower, and then head to a conference.”

“Oh, then no, I don’t need anything else. I’m going upstairs too—I’ve got a lot of studying and work to do.”

“Fine,” he says as he heads upstairs to his room.

Now that he’s gone, it’s the perfect chance to clean this place up.

Everything is covered in dust, but I wasn’t lying about having work to do. If the place is dirty, though, I won’t be able to focus. Sighing, I head to the bathroom to grab the cleaning supplies…

17. Soaking Wet

Two hours later

I don’t want to sound ungrateful—I know Isaac does a lot around the house,

Or at least what he considers a lot.

But not a single plate has been touched by him since I’ve been here.

I don’t mind doing it myself, I’m not doing it to look better or anything. I just can’t take seeing dirty glasses piled up on the counter anymore.

So, for the second time today, I stick my hands in the water and start scrubbing off the congealed food stuck to the plate.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!!”

I suddenly hear him yell, and I freeze.

I look up, startled, and hear Isaac swearing in Russian?!

“What the hell just happened?” I mutter to myself.

Before I can process it, the bathroom door bursts open, and less than thirty seconds later, Isaac storms into the kitchen soaking wet, with a black towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

I stop breathing.

Not because I’m scared—no.

For some reason, Isaac’s body looks like something out of a fitness commercial or something.

Sculpted abs, broad shoulders, tattoos, water dripping down his skin…

I quickly refocus on the dishes before he notices. First stage of a meltdown: stay calm.

It’s Isaac .

“Are you serious right now?” he says, his voice filled with anger as he strides toward me. “I am serious,” I reply.

Okay, that has to be the worst response ever.

“You’re messing with my shower without even being in there!” he yells, gesturing toward the dishes I’d been washing.

“What the hell were you thinking, doing this now?!”

“I was trying to be useful,” I say, still not looking at him.

It feels safer to focus on the dishes.

The dishes are my safe zone.

“Useful? You’ve ruined me! The water turned ice-cold—I thought I was freezing to death!”

“You’ll survive, Isaac. You’re tough,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.

I can feel him getting closer. “All I wanted was a relaxing shower, and instead, I ended up screaming like a crime victim,” he snaps.

That’s it. I can’t hold it in anymore—I burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny, you creep?” he demands.

“Just… the image of Isaac, the tough guy, screaming because the water got a little cold,” I manage to say through my laughter.

“It wasn’t ‘a little cold,’” he says, holding up his fingers for emphasis. “It was like diving into the Arctic Circle!”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Okay, okay,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “I promise I won’t do the dishes while you’re showering. Happy?”

He looks at me like he’s debating whether to strangle me or just ignore me. Finally, he turns and heads back towards the bathroom.

I let out a long breath and take a break from the dishes until the prince is done with his shower. “Why do I always have to deal with this shit…” I mutter to myself.

---

Hello people, this chapter was kinda small ik, BUT keep reading cause things are about to get REALLLL🎀

18. Truth Or Dare, Isaac?

.One week later.

Isaac

The living room is crowded. Not that this is anything new for my house. I had invited a few friends over, just to hang out without a lot of fuss or endless trash to clean up afterwards—for a change.

The couch was packed. Two others were sitting in the armchairs, and I was on the floor, leaning my back against the wall, holding a bottle of beer.

The conversation was flowing smoothly until the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke through.

I turned my head—it was Dean.

I had forgotten to tell him we were gathering today, so he was clearly surprised when he saw us.

I could feel his awkwardness in the way he hesitated for half a second before continuing down. He was holding a thick book in his hand.

“Oh, so this is Dean!” Mia exclaimed, completely ecstatic, as if she’d just seen a celebrity.

I couldn’t help it; I smiled a little.

“So this is why you talk about him so much. I get it now” Nick said, pinning him with his gaze.

“what do you mean - this -?” I looked him straight in the eye, but I didn’t get an answer.

Dean stopped in front of a cabinet, glancing at us all as if we’d just landed from another planet.

“I just need to grab something. I won’t disturb you,” he said calmly, but I could pick up a hint of tension in his voice.

“Come on, sit with us for a bit, Dean,” Adam chimed in, making space on the couch. “We don’t even know you yet, even though we’ve heard your name a thousand times. Isn’t that a shame?”

“I don’t think I have the time,” Dean replied curtly. “I have to study.”

Mia burst out laughing. “Oh, come on! Just for a little while! We’re not going to keep you all night!”

Dean looked at me. I recognized that look. He wanted to say something but was hesitating. He sighed and finally came closer.

He sat right on the edge of the couch, as if he was afraid we were going to do something to him. Mia immediately turned towards him.

“So, what’s it like living with Isaac?”

“Yeah, what’s it like living with such a stubborn person?” Nick added, smiling mischievously.

I glanced at Dean as I took a sip of my beer. He raised his eyebrows. For a moment, I thought he might just get up and leave. But instead, he turned and looked at me.

“It’s fine,” he replied neutrally.

“Just fine?” the girl asked, pretending to be shocked.

“Yeah, just fine,” he answered, crossing his arms.

As time went by, Dean seemed less tense.

The way he spoke started to feel more natural, even when the questions they threw at him crossed the line of politeness.

“I don’t know how you put up with him, honestly,” Nick said, gesturing towards me.

Dean looked at me again, but this time, he was smiling—just a little.

“I guess I’ve gotten used to it,” he said calmly.

The group laughed, and I couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that everyone believed Dean was just a quiet, distant guy.

That included me. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed that this guy had once hit a thief over the head with dog food and ran for it.

His eyes wandered from face to face without focusing too much on anyone.

“Dean, have a drink, don’t just sit on the sidelines. It won’t kill you,” Nate said, holding out a bottle of beer to him.

I turned to glare at Nate. As if he’d take it.

“No, thanks,” Dean replied immediately, but Nate didn’t give up.

“Come on, just a little, for the sake of the group.”

I looked at Dean indifferently, but I was ready to tell him he didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to.

Before I could, he raised his hand and took the beer.

He clinked it against mine immediately, smiling like he was expecting me to congratulate him.

I smiled crookedly.

He brought the bottle to his lips, and I watched, almost holding my breath.

I thought he was allergic to alcohol or something, since I’d only ever seen him drink coffee and water.

“That’s the spirit,” Nate said, ready to cheer.

“So, guys, what do you say we play Truth or Dare? Like old times?” Mia suggested.

Some of the group agreed right away, while others seemed indifferent.

Dean looked at them awkwardly. I knew what he was thinking—that he didn’t belong here, and he definitely didn’t want to play.

But something in his expression told me that, for some reason, he didn’t plan on leaving, and that confused me more than I wanted to admit.

Dean

The game had just started, and everyone else seemed pretty hyped.

Me, on the other hand, stayed glued to my spot, beer bottle in hand, having only taken two sips. My gaze wandered aimlessly, searching for an escape.

That Nate guy couldn’t stop staring at Isaac.

Mia was staring at me, and I was discreetly checking the clock, calculating how much time l’d wasted.

Still, there was something oddly amusing about all of this, so l stopped thinking about studying for a bit and let my mind return to the group. Nick was the first to be asked.

“Truth or dare?” “Truth.”

Immediately, everyone groaned and teased him. “Boring,” Mia said, and the others just laughed.

“What’s the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” they asked, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully while everyone watched him.

“You know my little sister’s treehouse?” he said, and Mia stared at him, mouth wide open.

“No way!” she exclaimed, and he nodded proudly, making me let out a small laugh.

Then it was Isaac’s turn.

“Truth or dare?” Nate asked, his tone full of anticipation.

Isaac, completely unfazed, took a sip of his beer and replied, “Dare.”

Nate’s grin turned mischievous.

“Alright. I dare you to kiss… me.”

My heart stopped for a moment, and before I could even realize it, my eyes widened.

This was supposed to be a chill hangout, not a contest to see who’d have a heart attack first?!

That son of a bitch. So that’s why he kept staring at Isaac.

Isaac, however, didn’t react at all.

He simply nodded, like someone had asked him to pass the salt.

Nate didn’t waste any time. He leaned forward and kissed him.

Not quickly, not carelessly, but with a confidence that froze me in place.

Isaac didn’t react, letting it happen, and when it was over, he leaned back as if nothing had happened.

Nate smiled, and the others burst out laughing and commenting. But I… I couldn’t laugh. Not even a fake one.

My stomach twisted.

I didn’t know why. It wasn’t even unusual for Isaac. He was always unpredictable, always did whatever came to his mind without explaining himself to anyone.

But for some reason, this rattled me.

I felt my hands start to sweat, and the beer bottle in my hand suddenly seemed heavier than before.

I caught myself staring at Isaac. The way he leaned back, relaxed, as if none of it mattered. The game continued, but I struggled to focus. The voices around me were distant, almost like background noise.

And then, suddenly, I heard my name. “Dean, truth or dare?” It was Isaac. He was looking at me with a faint smile.

“Truth.

A fleeting look of surprise crossed his face.

“Alright,” he said. “Here’s my question. Is there someone here you’re interested in?”

My heart stopped again. The others gasped, eager for my answer.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, lifted my gaze, and looked at Isaac. His face was expressionless, but his eyes studied my every move.

“Yes,” I answered. My voice was quiet but steady. The group erupted into cheers, laughter, and demands for more details.

Isaac, however, remained silent.

His eyes narrowed, and the faint smile disappeared from his face. “Who?” he asked, his voice calm but with an undertone I couldn’t ignore.

“It’s not your turn to ask questions, is it?” I replied, smirking as I met his gaze, taking another sip of my beer.

“I’ve got a lot of studying to do, guys. Sorry, but l’ve got to head out. I had a good time, though,” I said, smiling as I got up.

They booed me as I left.

19. You’re Not My Type

Dean

We hadn’t exchanged a single word since last night, until he came up to me and asked for help cleaning the pool in the afternoon.

I finished as much studying as I could and headed downstairs.

There was a slight awkwardness—it was obvious, but it was a terrible moment to bring up what I wanted to talk about.

The only way to get him to open up and learn what I needed was to grab some beers after the cleaning and invite him to hang out on the lounge chairs by the pool.

Not exactly the ideal way to spend my afternoon or evening, but I’d try to make it worth it at least.

“Wait,” I called out as soon as we were done and rushed inside the house.

I wiped my feet on the mat and headed straight for the kitchen.

I grabbed a six-pack of beer and went back outside. Raising it proudly in his direction, I waited for his reaction.

He looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if he was surprised or horrified.

“Are you trying to get me drunk and then do something bad to me or what?” he asked, crossing his arms and looking at me suspiciously.

“If I wanted to get you drunk, I definitely wouldn’t bring beer. Maybe tranquilizers meant for buffaloes—though I doubt even that would work on you, so you’ve got nothing to worry about. Come on,” I said, and he approached cautiously.

I sat down on the tiles surrounding the pool and dipped my feet into the water, surprised. It wasn’t even cold.

“I’m not sitting next to you,” he said bluntly. I hugged the six-pack to my chest.

“I don’t bite,” I replied innocently.

He hesitated before sitting down at a safe distance. We opened the beers and took a simultaneous sip.

“Two days in a row? You must really be struggling,” he said sarcastically, but I avoided looking at him.

I realized I had managed to get him to sit here, but I hadn’t thought about the next step—what I was supposed to say to break this awkward cycle.

I drank sip after sip to drown the anxiety that was killing me.

Lifting my head, I looked at him. One arm propped up for support, the other holding the beer with effortless ease.

“You’ve got a lot of tattoos,” I blurted out, immediately regretting it.

Sometimes, I wonder if I even know how to use my brain or if it’s just there for show.

I studied them curiously.

“We have one on the exact same spot! Look!” I said proudly, pointing to my side.

He didn’t share my enthusiasm.

“What do those Russian words around your arm mean?” I asked. He exhaled deeply, taking another sip.

“Nothing special,” he replied dryly.

I turned my gaze forward again, deciding this was the moment to change the topic to last night.

“You know…” I began, trying to sound nonchalant, but I could feel his eyes on me, stripping me bare. “Last night… the game was kind of… funny, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, sipping his beer as he waited for me to elaborate.

“I mean, what Nate did. Pretty crazy,” I continued, feeling my mouth tighten.

“Funny, you thought?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah. Unexpected, really. And kind of weird, maybe.”

“Weird…” he repeated, tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Weird for you or for me?”

The question caught me off guard. I scrambled to find a response that wouldn’t expose me.

“For all of us, maybe,” I finally said, avoiding his gaze.

“Interesting. But I think you’re overthinking it. It’s just a game,” he said.

“I’m not overthinking,” I replied quickly, defensively.

“No?” he asked, turning toward me. His eyes gleamed dangerously, and that crooked smile I hated appeared again. “Then what are we talking about right now?”

I took a sip of beer. “I just didn’t expect it,” I said. “You didn’t react—not even a little”.

His smile reappeared, and suddenly, I felt uncomfortable.

“Why would I react? What exactly were you expecting me to do? It’s not my fault he chose me because he wanted me.”

“Yeah, right,” I replied slowly. “You’re just used to everyone paying attention to you, aren’t you?”

“I mean, I don’t seek it out,” he said, shrugging indifferently. “But yeah, I can’t say I don’t get attention—whether from men or women. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t have any restrictions.”

I lifted my head sharply. “Restrictions?” I echoed, slightly taken aback.

“I don’t limit myself. Why should I? I am who I am, and I do what I want. If I like something, I take it,” he said.

I stared at him like an idiot.

“And you just say that? Like it’s the simplest thing in the world?”

He turned to look at me again. “For me, it is the simplest thing in the world. You, on the other hand, seem a little shaken. Second beer?” he asked, and I grabbed it without thinking.

I had no idea what to say to him.

“It’s funny watching people’s reactions when they learn something about me. You, though… you’re not exactly keeping it together,” he said.

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to throw the bottle at his head or… just throw the bottle at his head.

How could he be so full of himself?

He remained seated next to me, relaxed, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

I tried to focus, but the air felt charged, like electricity crackling where there hadn’t been any before.

“You’re ridiculous,” I said, nearly laughing. “Do you always put people in situations like this?”

“If others aren’t ready for the truth, that’s not my fault,” he replied, staring at me again. This time, his gaze lingered a little longer.

“You, though… you have something. Something you’re hiding behind this nerd-like persona you’re projecting. You try hard to cover it up, I’ll admit, but it’s there—I can see it.”

Now, I definitely wanted to shoot him.

“I’m not a nerd. And even if I were hiding something, you wouldn’t be the first person to find out about it. As for your situation, I’m not bothered by it. I think that’s already pretty obvious. I just didn’t expect to hear it from you, especially like this.”

“What did you expect? You’ve known me for almost five months. What kind of person did you think I was?”

“The kind of person who thinks the world revolves around him,” I said.

“And if I told you that’s true? Maybe you already know that, and that’s what irritates you so much,” he said.

Annoyed, I closed my eyes briefly before opening them again to glare at him.

“What exactly do you want me to say? That you’re the irresistible Isaac, that everyone falls for?”

“You don’t need to say it—I can see it in your eyes” he said.

I felt my temperature rising and shifted a little farther away.

Suddenly, Isaac felt dangerously close.

Too close. Close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck.

I froze.

“Relax, mr serious. You’re not my type, if that’s what’s scaring you,” he said.

I stayed frozen, struggling to process what had just happened. I was sure he could hear my heart pounding—it was ready to leap out of my chest, taking my soul with it.

“Don’t take it personally. I just wanted to see your reaction. It was… interesting,” he said, finishing his beer.

“And now it’s my turn.”

20. -Let Me In-

Dean

“About you and yesterday’s game…” he says curiously.

“Yeah, what about it?” I ask indifferently.

He suddenly turns and looks at me scrutinizingly. He’s waiting. I know what he wants, and I know exactly how to play this.

“Who is it then? The guy that you’re interested in” he asks.

I smile slowly, because now it’s my turn to have some fun and play. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

I lean back, propping myself up on my palms.

“It was you.”

His eyes widen. “What do you mean me ?!” he says, raising his eyebrows, trying to keep the same tone as before.

I lean forward, closing the distance between us considerably. “I mean, I want you, Isaac.”

I try not to laugh.

The silence that follows is explosive, but before I can help it, I burst into laughter.

“Oh God, you should’ve seen your face. I was kidding, obviously. “

His face darkens, looking more annoyed that he’d fallen for it than about the idea of me not wanting him.

I sigh, pretending to be calm. “Okay, okay. Sorry, it’s Nick…”

His expression sottens. “Really?”

I nod.

“No, wait, I got confused again,” I say, laughing again.

But after a few seconds, I sober up. “Okay, no jokes this time,” I say quietly.

“I did mean you, Isaac.” This time my voice is serious, my gaze steady.

He looks at me suspiciously. “Why?” he asks casually.

I smile. “I could tell you, If I was actually telling the truth.”

I laugh again, but before I can stop, his hand moves to my back, and he suddenly shoves me into the pool with force.

The cold water shocks me, but l can’t stop laughing.

I push my wet hair back and wipe the water from my eyes.

“I don’t even want to imagine how you react to rejection, if this is how you react when you find out someone, who’s not even your type , doesn’t want you.” “I wouldn’t know, it has never happened,” he says, trying to sound careless, though it’s clear he’s proud of himself.

Oh, he’s in for it now. I splash water at him with my hands, and his expression changes instantly.

He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Eventually, you’ll get cold and come out. It’d be a shame to find the house locked,” he says, looking at me.

I freeze.

Moving quickly, I head for the corner of the pool as he stands up and runs towards the entrance.

“No, no, no,” I mutter to myself as Isaac passes by me.

He gets inside and actually locks me out. “If you don’t open the door, I’m never washing your dishes again for a month!” I shout.

The window above the door suddenly opens—my window.

“Hey!” I shout. “Get away from there,” I tell him, but he looks at me pitifully before glancing at something to his right.

He doesn’t miss the opportunity.

I quickly take off my soaking wet shirt and throw it at him, leaving him both surprised and angry. I just couldn’t quite tell. He grabs it and sets it down beside him.

“Can you open the door now?” I ask, exasperated.

“Now? Just when the view got even better? Forget it,” he says sarcastically, leaning back as if he’s in his own kingdom, while I’m stuck here, thinking l’ll probably catch a cold tomorrow-and I still have studying to do.

“Seriously, Isaac? Don’t you have anything better to do? Don’t you have a house to buy to pass the time more pleasantly?”

“It can wait,” he says, and I despair.

“Fine, but my classes can’t wait, so please let me in.”

He ignores me, and I start to lose my patience. “What do you want me to do so you’ll let me in?”

His expression lights up. Bad sign.

“Nothing major, just do the house chores and clean my room for a week.”

I lift my head to look at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious? I’ve been doing that for months already since I moved in with you! But fine, I accept! Can I come in now?” I ask, exasperated.

“Doesn’t count then,” he says, and suddenly his expression changes, becoming more devious.

“You know, lately, the woman who gives me massages… she’s gotten a bit rusty.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I reply.

“A week of back massages if you want to come in.”

“No.”

“How is it you refuse to do something for free that others would pay to have done?”

“Yeah, right. Want a blowjob too?” I ask sarcastically.

“If I’m ever in need, I’ll keep you in mind,” he replies in the same tone, and I let it slide.

“Come on, aren’t you the one who does chores and makes things with your hands? Time to prove your worth.”

“Forget it.”

“Fine,” he says, closing the window.

I clench my teeth and look around.

I grab a beer cap and tap it lightly against the window, and he opens it again.

“Fine, I’ll give you the dumb massage. Now let me in.”

He smiles and slowly moves away to come downstairs.

Maybe if I do a purposely terrible job, he’ll give up early-or better yet, I just won’t bring it up, hoping he forgets.

I hear the door unlock. As I walk inside, I feel like I’m stepping into something deeper, not just the house.

I glance at him sideways as I walk past, while he still has that look like he’s suddenly gained a servant.

21. Harder.

Dean

I go upstairs without saying a word to him and head straight to the bathroom, soaking wet.

I change into dry clothes this time and rush to my room before Isaac can see me.

I close the door behind me and lie down on the bed, exhaling in relief.

It’s still only 9 o’clock. I sit up in bed, open my black bag, and pull out two books. I had an article to read about Tadao Ando’s architecture, and how he uses light and shadow as materials. “Silence is the greatest gift a space can offer,” I read, confused.

My phone vibrates, and I see Liam’s name.

Studying ain’t for me I guess.

I answer without hesitation, knowing he wouldn’t stop calling until I picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?” I answer casually.

“Dude, you won’t believe what happened today!” he starts enthusiastically. “I went to Josh’s place, and guess who was there? Carter and Max! I accidentally ran into them, and Carter—man, how much more tragic can he get?! He started throwing random remarks and acting superior. It was hilarious and infuriating at the same time.”

I lower my head a bit to stifle a laugh. Liam always takes these things so personally.

“And what did he say, exactly?” I ask, mostly curious about where this is going.

“Oh, you know, the usual Carter stuff. Something like, ‘Oh, Liam, still in the same circles?’ and stuff. Can you believe him? I don’t even know how you managed to stay for this long with him!” he says, and I can almost hear the indignation in his voice.

I can’t help but laugh now. “Liam, seriously? You’re still letting him get to you? It’s been three months. It’s hilarious how much he still affects you.”

“He doesn’t affect me!” he snaps immediately, but the tension in his voice says otherwise.

“Sure,” I say, laughing again. “Okay, if he doesn’t affect you, why are you calling me to talk about him?”

“I just wanted to share the laugh!” he says, and I can tell he’s starting to laugh too.

“Liam, listen. I think you should just let it go. It’s not worth ruining your mood—”

Before I can finish, Isaac barges into the room as if it’s his own, and I jump up, startled.

I didn’t even hear the door, probably because he didn’t bother knocking in the first place.

He shuts the door and, with one swift motion, pulls off his black shirt and tosses it onto my chair.

I glare at him, annoyed.

“Liam, I’ll call you back in a minute. Maybe,”

I say and hang up. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, my eyes wandering before I can stop them.

He looks at me like he doesn’t understand the question. “It’s the first day.”

“Couldn’t it start tomorrow?” I ask, almost whining.

He smirks and, with complete ease, walks over to my bed and sits down as if he belongs there, making my heart race with how calm he is.

“We had an agreement,” he says, and I scowl.

“Fine,” I manage to say. “Turn around, lie on your stomach.”

That smile of his appears again. He gives me a strange look, like I said something completely different from what I meant. My eyes widen, and I swallow hard.

“Does this work for you, sweetheart?” he says as he lies on his stomach, but there’s that signature sarcasm in his tone that drives me crazy.

“Yeah. Now shut up so we can get this over with,” I snap. He chuckles a bit but complies.

For a moment, I just stare at his back. I still can’t fathom how his shoulders are that broad and how the muscles in his back stand out so much. His shoulder blades shifted slightly as he adjusted his position, making his arms look even more defined.

“Well?” he says, turning his head slightly to look at me. “Are you going to start, or do you think staring at my muscles will help them relax?”

I grit my teeth and sit on the edge of the bed, reluctantly placing my hands on his shoulders for the first time.

They’re tense—really tense. I start pressing my thumbs in, trying to ignore how absurd this feels.

“Harder. What are you afraid of? Breaking me?” he complains, and I pause, taking a deep breath because I’m already flustered.

I place my hands back on his back, pressing harder this time, and continue the same motions as before.

I realize that as time goes on, I’m doing it as if it’s for my own satisfaction rather than his.

God.

No.

I start having thoughts. Strange thoughts. Thoughts that scare my mind and taunt my body.

I immediately get off the bed and clap my hands for him to get up. “That’s it. Get up. It’s late, and I’m tired,” I shout, and he turns to look at me, confused.

“That’s unfair. That was way too short,” he complains, and I shut the nearby window.

“What’s that for?” he asks.

“I don’t want anyone to hear you and get the wrong idea from what you’re saying,” I reply.

He sits up, smiling slyly. “What, afraid they’ll think you can’t last long?” he teases.

“I’m afraid they’ll think I hooked up with you . That’s embarrassing,” I snap back, irritated.

“That’d be an honor,” he declares.

“Oh, yeah? I’d rather not be honored along with 200 other ‘honored’ people.”

“Jealous that you’re still the exception?” he counters, and I glare at him sideways as he fixes me with those stupid blue eyes of his.

“Still?! You’re the one who said I’m not your type,” I say, confused and sarcastic.

“Do you wish you were my type?” he fires back, and I lower my head, exhausted.

“Leave me alone, Isaac. It’s way too late to deal with the crap you’re spouting. Goodnight,” I say, shoving him toward the door and handing him his shirt.

I open the door and, with all my strength, push him out of the room. I slam the door shut and exhale, both relieved and nervous.

That damn back of his.

The warm tone of his skin under my palms.

The way my hands slid over the hardness of his body.

The low, almost imperceptible sighs he let out as his body relaxed made mine react.

Jesus Christ.

I feel the tension striking through me like lightning, but I know what’s happening—or at least I think I do.

It has nothing to do with Isaac, no. It was just a good body, and it happened to be his.

It could’ve been anyone’s—it just happened to be some arrogant, annoying, and infuriating guy.

A guy whose movements, voice, and gaze I can’t stand. Damn it, though. He has an incredible body. But that’s all there is to it.

It has nothing to do with how I felt just now.

I lie down on the bed where he was lying moments before.

The bed still smells like Isaac.

I close my eyes, trying to convince myself I’m right—that the blood rushing to my face isn’t because of him, that my mind hasn’t gone back to the moment I was rubbing his shoulders and hearing him take deep breaths.

22. -Never Have I Ever-

Isaac

I rub my eyes in frustration and look at the ceiling.

Why is it always at night that our minds get stuck on pointless thoughts?

It’s unbearable and fucking irritating.

The room is so quiet that soon I’ll be able to hear even what I’m thinking.

I’m bored.

I grab my phone from the nightstand. Dean was online two minutes ago. I smirk. “Probably building houses again,” I mumble.

I get up and put on a white t-shirt and a pair of black shorts.

If I can’t sleep, I might as well have some fun.

I leave my room and approach Dean’s door.

I didn’t knock—why should I? I’m Isaac.

I open the door and walk in. What I saw made me freeze for a moment, and then I smiled again.

Dean was sitting on his bed, blushing furiously. His hands quickly pulled up the blanket, and he looked at me with wide eyes.

“What the hell, Isaac? Just give me a room without a door at this point!”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms, my smile wide and teasing. “So, you weren’t building houses, huh?”

“What?” he yells, his eyes sparking with anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but what the actual hell, Isaac?”

“If you’re so worried, you could’ve just locked the door,” I say. His glare could’ve killed me, but for some reason, that only amused me more.

“Get out,” he said tightly, but I didn’t leave. I never did when he told me to. I walked further into the room, deliberately slow, until I was standing right in front of him, crouching slightly between his legs.

“Relax, Dean. I didn’t see anything. Yet.”

The silence that followed was electric. His gaze was locked on mine, so intense that for a moment, I thought he’d get up and throw me out again like before.

“What do you want?” he asks, exasperated.

“I can’t sleep, and clearly, neither can you. So I came for some company.”

“Yeah, by barging into my room. You’re awful.”

I laughed and turned toward the door. “Maybe I know what we can do. Come to the kitchen.”

Before he could argue, I cut him off. “If you really wanted to kick me out, you’d have done it already. So, come on.”

I left the door open behind me, and after a few seconds, I heard him reluctantly follow. I smirked again.

I walked into the kitchen and approached a tall cabinet. I pulled out a bottle of Jägermeister and heard him sigh.

“You’d have to be insane to think you’ll get me to drink that. Forget it.”

I couldn’t care less about his protests. Dean’s always like this, ready to resist everything, especially if the idea comes from me.

“Are you sure? I think if we take it easy, it won’t hurt. We’ll enjoy it.”

I opened the bottle with a distinctive twist, glancing at him as I did.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He turned to leave, but I stopped him almost immediately.

“Look, I get it. You and alcohol don’t have the best relationship, but no offense, maybe you need it a little. You always seem so uptight for no reason.”

He didn’t respond, just gave me an angry look.

“No,” he said again.

“Funny, though, how easily you downed those beers before. So easily it almost turned me on,” I said mockingly.

The atmosphere had grown heavy. Dean was still standing there, tense and resistant, but for some reason, thoughtful. I could see from his face that he wanted to leave.

Guilt washed over me.

“Alright, you win. I’m putting it back,” I said, closing the cabinet carelessly.

“No,” he said, and for a moment, I froze.

Then I looked at him, confused.

“What? What’s up with you?” I asked calmly.

“You’re right. Maybe I do need it,” he said, but his expression had suddenly turned strange.

“Whatever you say,” I replied, pulling the bottle back out.

“No need to worry. It’s just a casual drink. If anything happens after, feel free to blame me. You’ll enjoy it. You’ll see.”

Dean didn’t respond, but I couldn’t help but smile.

We went upstairs, and I motioned for him to enter my room.

He looks at me, slightly terrified, as if he’s stepping into the room for the first time.

His eyes wander everywhere, scanning every detail—from the stacks of books on the desk to the photos on the wall. It was strange to see him like this, but also amusing.

“Is that you?” he asks, pointing to one of the photos.

I nod, glancing at the picture. I was young then, with my mom holding me in her arms, laughing. I don’t remember where we were, but her expression was always the same—warm, protective, as if nothing bad existed in the world.

“She’s beautiful,” he says.

My heart tightens, but I try not to show it. “She was,” I reply softly.

His gaze shifts back to me, and maybe he understood the word I used—maybe not. He didn’t ask any more questions, and for some reason, I was grateful for that. I wasn’t ready to talk about my mom.

He put the photo back in its place and sat down on my bed with a slight sigh.

“Well then, time for a game,” I say, trying to lighten the mood again.

“A game with two people? And you call me boring?”

I lean back, propping myself up on my hands, looking at him with that expression I know irritates him.

“Don’t worry, prince. It doesn’t have to be the Olympics for us to have fun.”

“Sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

I stood up and went over to my desk to bring the bottle closer. Dean’s expression was still odd—calm, but unreadable. And that’s what worried me. I could always read him, but not now.

“So, what made you decide to drink?” I ask casually.

“Just because,” he replies, but I don’t buy it.

I didn’t push further. I know him well enough to tell when he doesn’t want to talk.

I took two shot glasses out of the mini fridge and placed them beside us. His eyes fell on them, and he sighed. He picked one up and held it like it was a bomb about to go off, avoiding my gaze.

“Alright, prince, the rules are simple. Never Have I Ever. You’ve played it before, right? One person says something they’ve never done, and whoever has done it drinks. It’s just the two of us though, so you can say things even if you have done them. Simple, right?”

23. Now That’s Interesting

Isaac

“I don’t see how this is supposed to be fun.”

“Watching you drink will be the highlight of the night on its own.”

He finally lifted his gaze and shot me a murderous look, but he said nothing. I knew the “prince” nickname annoyed him, and that was precisely why I kept using it. It was a small victory for me against his sudden seriousness.

I opened the bottle again, filled our glasses, and set mine down beside me. I leaned back slightly against the wall, watching him sit at the edge of my bed like he was ready to leave.

“Alright, let’s start with the classics. Never have I ever kissed someone on the first date.”

Dean looked at me like he was debating whether or not to join in. Then, slowly, he picked up his glass and raised it.

“Doesn’t mean I do it all the time,” he said before downing his shot.

I watched him as he drank, the burn of the Jägermeister making him grimace slightly. I had to admit, I didn’t expect that from him.

“Interesting. I didn’t think you were that spontaneous.”

He leaned back, propping himself up with his hands on the mattress, still looking at me with that peculiar expression.

“My turn. Never have I ever stolen something.”

I smiled, grabbed my glass, and raised it without hesitation.

“It wasn’t anything important,” I admitted.

He softened, as if he hadn’t expected me to own up to it so easily.

Half an hour later

We kept playing, each round bringing us closer, peeling away the masks we both wore. We talked about our first relationships, things that embarrassed us, and small, funny moments we’d never shared before.

“My turn,” he announced as I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the blur caused by the alcohol.

“Never have I ever gotten a fine.”

I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking.

“You? You’ve gotten a fine?” I asked, and he gave me a bitter smile, raising his glass.

“I was with friends. Speeding. Not proud of it.”

I drank my shot, though I’d never done anything like that. For some reason, knowing Dean had put his life at risk, even just once, felt like something shattered inside me. The room filled with silence—not an awkward one, but one that felt charged.

It was like the game was only just beginning.

My glass remained in my hand, my fingers fidgeting with the narrow rim. Dean sat on the mattress too, his gaze flitting between his glass and me.

The alcohol was clearly starting to affect him.

“Alright, let’s go deeper,” I said, filling our glasses again.

“Never have I ever felt jealous of someone I never expected to.”

Dean raised an eyebrow but reached for his glass immediately. He drank without offering any explanation.

“Who?” I asked.

“A classmate. He had everything I wanted. Confidence, ease, charisma.”

“And you think you don’t have those things?” My question caught him off guard.

“Your turn,” he said, filling our glasses himself.

I wanted to push him a little more, though.

“Never have I ever been in a situation where I wanted to kiss someone but didn’t.”

Dean tightened his grip on his glass and hesitated. His gaze flickered toward me for a fraction of a second. Finally, he took the shot, exhaling heavily.

“Who?” I pressed again.

“Someone,” he replied vaguely.

I didn’t push further, but the thought lingered in my mind.

“My turn,” he said quietly.

“Never have I ever flirted with someone just to see how far it could go.”

I laughed, raising my glass and downing the shot without shame.

“Countless times. It’s fun to see how people react when you push their limits.”

Dean’s gaze darkened slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

“Never have I ever wondered if I could stay friends with someone while wanting them more than anything.”

I expected him not to drink, but he surprised me by downing his shot with certainty.

“Now that’s interesting,” I said quietly.

“It’s not,” he replied.

I started to feel like my confidence was being tested the longer we played.

“Never have I ever thought if someone wanted me but was too scared to admit it.”

For the first time, my hand moved toward the glass hesitantly. I drank, letting the alcohol burn my throat, without breaking eye contact.

“It has happened,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

His eyes dropped to my hands, which were holding the glass.

“What are we doing, Isaac?”

My confidence wavered. His question hung in the air, stealing my breath.

His fingers nervously played with his glass. It was something he hadn’t even expected himself to say.

“We’re playing, Dean. That’s what we’re doing,” I tried to sound serious and, above all, composed.

His face tightened like he wasn’t satisfied with my answer. He sat across from me, but his body leaned slightly toward me, almost imperceptibly. It was like he was deciding whether to retreat or take a step forward.

“Next question. Never have I ever let someone make me feel vulnerable on purpose.”

I smiled bitterly. It was a low blow, but I wasn’t about to give him the win so easily. I raised my glass and drank, letting the liquid burn me once again.

“It’s part of the game, right? Letting someone see only what you want them to see.”

He stared at me but didn’t speak. I knew he had things to say but was holding them back.

“My turn. Never have l ever thought about leaving what’s right to chase after what’s wrong.” Dean sighed heavily. His hands gripped his glass, and for a moment, I was sure he wouldn’t drink, but then he did.

“Sometimes, the wrong thing comes to you without you even chasing it.” His answer left me speechless for a moment. It was as if he was talking about something specific, and it captivated me.

The distance between us had narrowed subtly. Our legs were almost touching, and the tension was at its peak.

“Never have l ever wanted to do something l’d regret the next day.”

His eyes locked onto mine. I reached for my glass, but my fingers froze. My skin buzzed with electricity from his presence.

“You would only regret not doing it sooner,” I whispered before drinking my shot, and the atmosphere was now truly unbearable.

He was staring at me, almost as if he was trying to read my mind. “Why are you doing this, Isaac?” he murmured.

My heart was pounding in my chest. My eyes flicked down to his lips, but I didn’t make a move.

That son of a bitch had nice lips.

But I didn’t want to upset the balance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to maintain my composure.

He leaned closer, his expression making me doubt myself.

“Stop. You’re not even my type, remember?” I said, searching for a logical reason to put a stop to this before I ruined everything.

I wanted to say it, to believe it, to shout it, but the way he was looking at me… it made me question whether I could say anything and mean it.

He hadn’t stopped staring. His piercing green eyes made me feel weak against that statement. For some reason, he smirked, and I got nervous.

That motherfucker stole my smirk and used it on me too.

“You said that so seriously, I almost believed you,” he said, and before I realized it, he had settled between my legs, never breaking eye contact.

I felt utterly trapped.

His hand slid up my thigh, while the other hand pressed against the back of my neck.

His fingers squeezed lightly before moving down my chest and stopping at my waist.

At the same time, I could feel his breath on my neck.

Holy Mother.

I wanted to respond, but my body was already betraying every word. My blood was burning, my breathing uneven, even as I fought to remain still and composed.

His movement became bolder.

His fingers slipped lower, crossing the line of what was acceptable-what I didn’t want to admit felt dangerously good-and sent shivers down my spine.

His hand was now clearly on my hard dick.

At this point, just kill me. It will be less painful.

“Stop. Please. You’re just drunk. It’s the alcohol talking, not Dean” I said, trying to convince him, trying to push him away.

But no matter how hard I tried to find the right words, every move he made brought my body closer to temptation.

The last thing I wanted to admit was that all of this had me so turned on it physically hurt.

I stayed composed because, even though the alcohol had hit me, Dean was obviously in worse shape.

Our eyes were literally having the sex that we didn’t.

“If you’re so into this, come ask it while not drunk, sweetheart. Then, I might believe you’re actually serious.”

I whisper to him on purpose, only because I was sure he wouldn’t even remember it by tomorrow.

It was for the best. It would be too dangerous for him to get involved into my messy life right now.

“We’re done for today.”

Those words were the hardest thing l’ve done in a while.

Actually, no-the hardest thing was grabbing his hand and moving it off my dick.

Definitely that.

24. A Strange Feeling

Isaac

I hesitated as I grabbed him by the shoulders, helping him stand upright.

His steps were unsteady, and a pang of guilt hit me.

I didn’t want him to reach this point, to let him drink to such excess. I was sure I didn’t want this.

I guided him to the bathroom, determined to help him at least go through his nightly routine—if only to avoid getting an earful in the morning.

Once we entered the bathroom, I tried to calm him down, but he didn’t seem to understand what I was doing. He simply relaxed and surrendered to his drunken state.

Then, without warning, he began pulling his pants down, mumbling something about needing to pee. He was so out of it that he didn’t even realize I was right next to him.

I immediately turned away so abruptly that I felt dizzy.

When he noticed me turning away, he came closer, giving me the most awkward and ridiculous flirting I’ve ever witnessed.

“Stay here. I want to look at you—it calms me down,” he said, slurring his words.

I laughed loudly, avoiding a direct response. I couldn’t believe I’d driven the usually serious Dean to this point.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll remind you of this, and you won’t even believe yourself that you said it,” I said, still laughing.

Though my comment was meant to be humorous, something else struck me inside.

It stung, knowing that in the morning, I’d just be the annoying Isaac to him again.

I knew it was better for him to stay that way.

As we brushed our teeth and I helped him wash his face, he suddenly burst out laughing for no apparent reason. I realized it was the first time I’d ever seen him laugh so freely, so wholeheartedly.

His smile was incredible.

I didn’t even know what he was laughing about, but something about it made me laugh along with him.

A strange feeling flooded my chest, and I realized that whatever was happening with Dean wasn’t just a silly game anymore. Something deeper, something that terrified me, was beginning to grow inside me.

I felt my heart racing, and for a moment, it seemed almost impossible to pull myself away from him.

The last thing I expected to feel was comfort. But with Dean, in that moment, that’s exactly what I felt.

He was rambling about something random and incoherent, but the only thing I could focus on was his laughter. It stirred my emotions, making me question how I’d even gotten to this point with him.

I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to stay there, to watch him laugh, unable to shake the intense emotion that was consuming me: a mix of anxiety and fascination.

He laughed like a child, and it had a way of overturning all my expectations, leaving me feeling insignificant in his presence.

We left the bathroom, and he tugged me toward his bedroom.

My eyes widened, and I grabbed him by the shoulders.

“This isn’t a good idea. It’s late. Go to sleep,” I said, noticing he was barely staying awake.

“Please, just this once, be nice to me and stop arguing all the time,” he said, looking at me for a moment.

I sighed deeply.

Why are you doing this to me, Dean Clark. I am so fucked.

25. Who Was That Guy?

Dean

My head ached as if I had been banging it against a wall all night.

I felt dizzy. I didn’t want to get up.

Suddenly, I felt the surface I was lying on move. I opened my eyes and jolted upright as if I’d been electrocuted.

The surface was moving because the surface I was lying on was Isaac.

Why the hell is Isaac in my bed?!

Oh, God.

Everything around me was spinning, but something sharper than last night’s drinks dragged me into reality—a loud, persistent noise coming from the door.

My memory was a chaotic void starting from one more shot last night.

“Shit,” I whispered, my voice coming out hoarse. The noise at the door grew louder, more urgent.

I glanced cautiously out the window. There was a man waiting outside. I got up quickly, stumbling from the dizziness.

I bent down and shook Isaac.

“Wake up!” I said abruptly.

“Leave me alone. You were the one nagging for me to come here. I told you it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Something’s wrong, damn it. Wake up!” My voice trembled. Isaac shot up, confused.

“What’s going on?” he asked, alarmed.

“Someone’s downstairs. And they’re not happy. They’re banging on the door.”

He stared at me for a few seconds as if he were calculating something in his head, then got up abruptly.

“Don’t come down,” he said firmly, his expression filled with unease. “Stay here. I mean it.”

“Isaac, wait. What’s going on?” I grabbed his shoulder, but he pulled away immediately.

“Just stay here, Dean.” I watched him descend the stairs quickly. The silence he left behind felt heavier than my dizziness. My hand trembled as I brought it to my head, trying to make sense of everything.

I stood at the top of the stairs, my breath almost caught. Carefully, I leaned over, eyes glued to the living room.

The man entered the house. He looked middle-aged, around fifty, with a hard-edged face. His slicked-back hair and leather jacket looked more expensive than the entire house.

Nala started barking. His gaze carried the air of someone who thought they owned the place. Isaac stood across from him.

He was always calm, annoyingly composed—but not now.

There was a nervousness in his movements, a tension that made me realize whoever this guy was, he had some kind of hold over Isaac.

“Well, well, Isaac. Looks like you’ve made the place cozy,” the man said.

“What do you want?” Isaac replied curtly.

“We’ve got some unfinished business, Nabokov,” the man said, his voice low and sharp like a knife.

“Or did you think I forgot just because you moved?”

Isaac pressed his lips together tightly. “Not here.”

“Why not? Am I ruining a date?” the man sneered, glancing around. “No problem, they’ll find out what you owe me, and they’ll laugh.”

I didn’t understand what they were talking about, but something about the word owe made my chest tighten. Isaac stepped forward.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing. We settled everything.”

But the man wasn’t listening. He started wandering around the house, inspecting every corner. He walked past the kitchen counter, grabbed a glass sitting on it, and smashed it hard against the cabinet.

I stifled a gasp and pressed myself against the wall, clenching my fists. My heart was about to explode. I wanted to shout, but fear kept me frozen.

“That’s what you think,” the man replied.

Isaac moved closer to him.

Suddenly, he started speaking Russian. I couldn’t understand a word, but the man froze.

He seemed to enjoy whatever Isaac was saying, unlike Isaac, who looked far from pleased.

That sinister laugh—it made you feel like you had no options left.

“We’ll talk again soon, asshole,” the man said, slamming the door behind him.

Isaac stood still, his hands braced against the counter. His head lowered as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders.

I couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

With hesitant steps, I descended the stairs.

“Isaac.”

He turned to look at me. His expression was exhausted, and his hand was bleeding, though he completely ignored it.

I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel, moving toward him. But with one motion, he pushed it away.

“I don’t need help. Especially not from you,” he said, his voice distant, as if he was processing something eating him alive.

I looked at him, waiting, but nothing. The air around him felt heavy, and I couldn’t tell if I should speak or not.

“What happened?” I asked.

The only response I got was a cold stare, void of any familiarity.

“Nothing that concerns you,” he said shortly.

“Did something happen last night?” I asked.

“No. Nothing that involves him,” he replied, frustrated.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” he asked, without looking at me.

“All I remember is you filling up shot glasses. A lot of times,” I said, slightly annoyed.

His eyes darkened.

“Who was that guy?” I asked.

He turned abruptly toward me, his gaze filled with rage.

“That’s none of your business,” he growled.

The intensity of his tone made me take a step back.

“I’m just trying to understand—”

“There’s nothing to understand. It has nothing to do with you, and it’s none of your damn business,” he cut me off, yelling.

His words hit like a slap. I felt my heart sink a little, but anger quickly replaced the sting.

“Seriously? We live in the same house, and I can’t know anything about you?”

“Why? Do I know anything about you?” he snapped back, furious.

I didn’t respond, because the truth was, I’d never told him anything personal.

I set the paper towel on the counter and left the kitchen.

“There’s glass on the floor. Watch where you step,” I said quietly as I climbed the stairs.

I closed the door to my room and sat back on the bed.

I felt incredibly confused and, for some reason, hurt. I knew I never talked about my personal life with him, but for some reason, no matter how much he pissed me off, I genuinely wanted to know what happened today and what was weighing him down.

And aside from all that, I also wanted to know why he was sleeping in my room—and more specifically… with me on top of him.

Gross.

My curiosity was eating away at me, but that question would definitely have to wait since it was obvious he had much bigger issues to deal with right now.

5:00PM

I come back from work. I take a quick shower and head to clean the kitchen…

Weird…

The house was too quiet.

I shrug it off; this was good.

Finally, I’d be able to work in peace, without Isaac driving me crazy with his nonsense.

And refusing to talk to me.

2 hours later

My mind and the word “relaxation” must have a terrible relationship.

It’s been two hours, and I haven’t seen him at all, but his keys are here. He never leaves without them.

I’m starting to get paranoid.

What if he got so upset earlier that he did something stupid?! What if he got involved with that weird guy again and is somewhere, barely alive, right now?

I got up and started searching.

With a house this big, there had to be a logical explanation.

Kitchen, living room—empty.

I cautiously entered his room—empty.

I knock on the bathroom door, but there’s no answer.

I open my phone after I’ve searched everywhere.

His location shows the house. What the hell?!

I look around confused, and that’s when my eyes land on a set of stairs I’d forgotten even existed.

He showed them to me on the very first day I moved in, five months ago.

They lead above the second floor.

I climbed them slowly, trying not to make any noise. At the top of the stairs, there was a half-open door.

I pushed it, and I found myself staring at the thousands of city lights glowing under the dark blue sky.

And then I saw him.

He was sitting at the edge of the roof, his legs dangling in the void.

He wasn’t moving, his back slightly hunched, and his long fingers were fiddling with… a cigarette.

I approached slowly and sat down next to him.

At least he’s okay.

26. Fear

Dean

The flame from the cigarette flickered in the air, briefly illuminating his lips as he brought it to his mouth. “I didn’t know you smoked,” I said softly.

“I usually don’t,” he replied.

His gaze was dark, but in his blue eyes, there was a light reflecting the city below, an impressive sight, especially combined with the twilight casting shadows on his face, making his sharp features appear even harsher.

One hand held a beer bottle, while the other let the cigarette ash fall into the void.

“So?” I finally broke the silence.

“You still don’t want to tell me about the guy who broke into our house?” I said, but his look made me realize my mistake.

“I mean, your house. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, taking another drag from his cigarette.

He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking, his voice low.

“He was a man I thought I’d gotten rid of. But some people won’t stop chasing trouble until they’re dead.”

“Who was he?”

“…Sergei. He knew my mother. He was… something like her associate, if you can call someone who twists your arm until it breaks an associate.”

His grip on the beer bottle tightened, the veins on his hand bulging under his skin.

“He was the kind of person who made you believe you owed him everything. That everything you had belonged to him.”

“And what does he want from you now?” I asked, trying to piece it together.

“Everything,” he said hesitantly. “It doesn’t matter what. He just wants to remind me that I don’t have the right to be free. And it never stops.”

I glanced at the cigarette trembling slightly in his fingers.

It wasn’t just anger; it was fear. And seeing Isaac like that scared me too. I preferred him as a jerk.

Serious Isaac terrified me because I knew that for him to be in such a state, things had to be truly serious.

“Is that why you left Russia?” I asked, and I saw him freeze.

He didn’t answer immediately. He took a long sip of his beer and kept looking at the horizon, as if searching for the right words in the clouds that were now darkening.

“Yes,” he said finally. “That was part of the reason. The other reason was my family.”

I lifted my gaze to his face, but he didn’t look at me. He kept speaking, as though if he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to go on.

“My family had—and still has—everything. Money, fame, power. But all of it came at a cost. My mother paid with her life. My father… he paid with his soul. And me… I was their pawn. A pawn in a homeland where I had no say. You don’t know what it’s like to live in a house where money is the only language they speak. Where every time you laugh, someone tells you you’re laughing wrong. Where the only thing keeping you standing is the thought that maybe, if you leave, you can finally breathe.”

He finally turned to look at me, his eyes glistening—not with tears, but with sorrow and disappointment.

“I left because if I stayed, I would’ve ended up like them. Another empty person, in an empty house, filled with gold.”

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. His words were heavy, full of meaning. But it was the way he said them—like he was tearing a piece of himself out and handing it to me, that left me speechless.

“Isaac…” I started, but he interrupted me.

“I don’t need your pity, Dean. Really,” he said, crossing his arms and letting his cigarette fall to the ground.

“I just want you to know that if I disappear suddenly, it’s not because I didn’t try. It’s because they didn’t leave me a choice.”

I didn’t speak. How do you respond to something like that?

I just reached out and, for the first time, placed my hand on his shoulder without any bad intentions. He didn’t take his eyes off the horizon, but his body relaxed slightly, and that was enough for me.

“Your mother…” I asked hesitantly. “How did she die?”

His fingers tightened around the next cigarette, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and shaky.

“It’s not easy for me to talk about,” he said, and I understood.

I knew he needed time.

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly.

“My mother was a strong person—or at least, that’s how she seemed. She did everything she could to protect me and my sister. From my father, from his enemies, from herself…”

He turned his gaze to me, and I saw a pain in his eyes so deep it gave me chills.

“But you can’t protect someone from everything. Sooner or later, something gets to you. And it got to her.”

I leaned a little closer to him, noticing how the moonlight cast shadows on his face. His full lips stood out, and the veins on his hands bulged as if he was holding himself back from breaking.

“It was murder, Dean. Sergei and his men killed her. And I… I couldn’t do anything to save her.”

His voice broke at the end, and he turned his gaze away again. His jaw clenched as he struggled to keep himself together.

“Isaac, I’m sor—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he said curtly, but not angrily.

It was more like he wanted to close the door before it opened fully.

I didn’t push. I knew when to stop. Silence filled the space between us.

I didn’t know what made me say it at that moment. Maybe it was the growing familiarity between us…

“My mother… she’s alive,” I said.

Isaac turned to look at me, his eyes full of curiosity.

“But she’s not here… she’s in a psychiatric hospital.”

His reaction wasn’t what I expected. He didn’t look shocked or make any comments. He just waited.

“When I was little, before I even understood what family meant, my mother started… changing. She became dangerous.”

I lowered my eyes to the beer bottle Isaac had given me earlier.

“I don’t remember much from that time. And what I do remember, I’m not proud of. What stuck with me about my mother was… her hands. How strong her hands were,” I said quietly, and now I could see disappointment on his face.

I touched my left eye, the scar I still carried.

“See this? One day, she threw me into a mirror because my little brother and I had hidden her - vitamin pills- for fun.”

Isaac looked at me. There was a strange warmth in his eyes.

“For years, I was terrified of her. But now… I feel nothing. I visit her sometimes, but I’m not even sure if she recognizes me anymore. They took custody away from her quickly after that, when my teacher started asking questions about all the unexplained injuries. And my excuses were getting more and more fake. She’s like a living dead person to me now.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Isaac leaned back, resting on his elbows, and his gaze met mine again.

“I’m sorry for everything you went through,” he said. “We’re both carrying ghosts, it seems, huh?” he added with a bitter irony in his voice.

We smiled faintly, even though there was nothing funny about it.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I replied, exhaling.

27. Steal From You

Dean

“Anyway, we need to find a way to cut Sergei down to size. Scare him,” I added, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, almost as if he couldn’t believe what I had just said.

“So, what do you suggest? Should we beg him to stay away from me? Send him a polite letter?”

“I’m serious, Isaac,” I said firmly. My blood was still boiling from what had happened earlier.

“He’s after you for things others have done, if I understood correctly. That makes him a fraud. Surely there’s a way to prove it.”

That made him laugh, though not loudly—more of a low, tired chuckle, as if he knew something I didn’t.

“I wish,” he said, his voice turning serious again. “But it’s not that simple. Sergei isn’t someone you can deal with so easily. If you hit him, he’ll hit back.”

His words made me freeze. The anger inside me gave way to something heavier—a sense of helplessness I hated feeling.

“So what? You’re just going to let him ruin you? You’re not going to fight back at all?”

His eyes darkened. “You think I’m not fighting? You think I’m just sitting here taking whatever he throws at me without doing anything? Just because you don’t see how I fight doesn’t mean I’m not doing it.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was right—I had no idea what he was struggling to keep hidden or how many times he’d had to compromise to protect himself.

“There are solutions, Dean,” he continued, “but they’re not simple, and they’re definitely not the kind you’re thinking of—and that’s okay.”

“What do you mean? What solutions?”

He shook his head, as if he didn’t want to go into detail. “Solutions you don’t want to know about and definitely don’t want to be part of.”

His voice carried a weight that silenced me for a moment, but I couldn’t just leave it at that.

“I’m not a child; you don’t need to keep me on the sidelines.”

He looked at me, and in his eyes, there was something that resembled admiration—but also sadness.

“You don’t understand yet what it means to get tangled up with people like him. This isn’t a game, Dean. It’s life and death—literally. And I don’t want you to become a part of that.”

“And I don’t want to see you fighting alone,” I said instantly.

He looked surprised, but then he sighed. “I’m sorry, but no matter how touching your words are, I’m not budging on this.”

I exhaled in frustration, looking out at the horizon.

“I’m sorry for all the time I’ve made you deal with decorating trees, constant pointless arguments, and all that small stuff. I had no idea what you were going through… especially during the whole Carter thing.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d almost forgotten about him. Man, if I ever run into that guy, the slaps he’ll get… he’ll see stars shaped like spaghetti.”

I burst out laughing—not because of what he said exactly, but because of his tone and how naturally the satisfaction came through in his voice. He started laughing too, but quickly regained his composure.

“You don’t need to apologize, Dean. All those moments, all those things you mentioned—they help me forget. They make me feel like, for a little while, I’m living a normal life, far away from the dark side of it all.”

There was no bitterness in his voice, just honesty.

“I hoped that when I moved to Australia for a while many years ago, more kids would treat me like you do. But I was out of luck.”

His voice is calm, almost indifferent, but I feel like I can’t breathe. The word “Australia” echoes in my head, blaring like a siren.

“Australia?” I ask, my voice louder than I intended. My eyes are fixed on him. “You lived here before? When? How? Why?”

Isaac leans back and takes a drag from his cigarette.

“I was ten. My mother had just died, and my father had to deal with some legal issues about that house, because it was hers. So, we came here. A year or two, just until the business was done. For the first year, I had to go to school. It was hell.”

I stare at him, speechless, unable to say anything.

“I didn’t know English very well. I was the new kid. The boy without a mom. And the other kids… the kids bullied me for all of it. And when they weren’t bullying, they were stealing from me. Because, apparently, I had ‘the most expensive stuff.’”

I sit there, staring at him, my fingers digging into my knees. Isaac cracks a crooked smile.

“One little brat even stole my dad’s glasses. I’d taken them to school one day. I don’t know what they did with them, but… that’s just how people are, right?”

His words hit me like lightning.

No. No, he can’t be talking about me. But my heart knows the truth, even if my mind refuses to accept it.

I jump up abruptly. “Wait here!” I say, leaving before he can ask anything.

I run down the stairs, my mind spinning wildly. I burst into my room and start searching frantically, throwing things everywhere.

It has to be here.

And then I find it. The black box. I open it, and a grin spreads across my face like fireworks.

My God, it’s here.

I run back upstairs, my heart pounding like crazy.

“Are you out of your mind? What is that?” Isaac asks, the cigarette still dangling from his lips.

I sit beside him, my hands trembling. I hand it to him.

“Open it,” I say.

He looks at me hesitantly but takes the box. He opens it.

And we both burst out laughing. I can’t stop, and neither can he.

Inside the box are those glasses.

“You had them this whole time?!” Isaac says, laughing between words.

“Yes!” I reply, clutching my stomach. “God, I don’t even remember why I took them!” I say, still laughing. “Maybe because… you know, you were the ‘rich kid.’ I wanted to mess with you, to prove I could steal something from you.”

“Oh you sure stole something, Clark,” he muttered.

He gives me a sideways look, the kind he has when he’s about to say something snarky.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, still laughing but with a hint of mock seriousness. “As if it wasn’t bad enough that everyone else was stealing from me, even the other little brats joined in, huh?”

My laughter starts up again. It’s funny—really funny—if you think about it that way.

And then he says it.

“Keep them,” he says, tossing the box onto my lap.

“To remember me by when you move, and our lives go separate ways again.”

I freeze. My hands stop mid-motion. My smile fades.

Move? Separate ways? What do you mean?

My stomach churns. His words are so simple, so casual, like he’s talking about something already decided. But I… I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest.

I want to tell him he’s being ridiculous. That no matter how much he annoys me, I don’t want to leave. That we won’t go our separate ways. But my voice doesn’t come out. All I can do is stare at him, shocked and… angry. Not at him. At myself. Because I know he’s right. Someday, this will happen.

And I can’t stand it.

28. Isaac’s awesome

Isaac

I just got back from the gym, sweaty and exhausted. When I open the door, I see something I wasn’t expecting: Dean sitting on the couch with some kid, a kid I’ve never seen before.

Dean looks relieved the moment he sees me. “Finally, you’re back!”

I glance at the kid. The kid glances back at me. I cross my arms, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“Isaac,” Dean says, gesturing toward the kid, “this is my little brother, Alex. Alex, this is Isaac… my roommate.”

Alex raises an eyebrow at me, looking me up and down like he’s trying to place me into some kind of category.

“Hey,” he says eventually, his tone a little sharp.

“Hey,” I reply in the same tone. I stare at him, almost challenging him. He’s young, but he’s got this attitude that’s already starting to irritate me.

Dean, of course, picks up on it. “Isaac,” he starts, trying to sound as casual as possible, “I need a favor.”

I groan. “Oh, here we go. What favor?”

“I have to head to work,” he says, making an awkward gesture toward Alex. “I can’t take him with me, and…”

I cut him off before he can finish. “No.”

“Isaac, please.”

“No, Dean. I don’t do babysitting.”

“He’s not a baby! He’s thirteen!”

I glance at Alex again, who looks offended. “Okay, but he looks younger.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Alex says, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, I noticed,” I reply, dripping with sarcasm.

Dean shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “Isaac, it’s just for a few hours. Just make sure he doesn’t burn the house down or die of boredom. You can manage that, right?”

I stare at him for a moment, trying to come up with a way to refuse, but I know there’s no point. I sigh and throw up my hands. “Fine, but I’m not guaranteeing anything.”

Dean smiles, clearly relieved. “Thank you! You won’t regret this.”

“I already regret it.”

Dean gathers his things and heads to the door. “I’ll be back in the afternoon. You,” he says, pointing at Alex, “be good. And you,” turning to me, “don’t scare him.”

The door closes before I can respond.

…

Now it’s just the two of us. Me and the kid.

We stare at each other in silence for a moment.

“Alright,” I finally say. “I’m going to make some coffee. You… do whatever kids your age do.”

“Can I play on my phone?” he asks, his tone full of sarcasm.

“No, you should read a book instead.”

He looks at me, genuinely shocked. “You mean… like, a book with pages?”

I sigh. “This is going to be a long afternoon”

The silence in the house is heavy.

The kid won’t stop looking around, like he’s trying to decode who I am from the objects in the living room.

“Are you always this serious?” he asks suddenly.

I glance at him. “Are you always this talkative?”

He grins wide. “Yeah. It’s my talent.”

ah shit.

Somewhere after the first half-hour, the kid has found his favorite game: asking questions.

“How did you and Dean become friends?”

“We’re not friends.”

“So you’re just roommates?”

“Yes.”

“Are you always this distant?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

As I sit on the couch eating my delicious chicken, Alex starts wandering around the living room like he owns the place. At some point, he stops in front of my vinyl collection.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Vinyl records. Do you know what those are, or are you part of the generation that thinks music started with Spotify?”

He looks at me, clearly amused. “You’re probably part of the generation that thinks vinyl is still cool.”

I raise an eyebrow and put the book down. “Kid, let me tell you something: you’ve got a big mouth for someone who’s a guest.”

He grins mischievously. “Maybe you’re just jealous I’m younger.”

That was the spark. I get up from the couch. “Jealous? You’re the one who has no idea what quality music is.”

“Me? Go ahead, put one of those records on, and let’s see what they’re worth.”

I walk over to my collection, pull out a record, and place it on the turntable. The sound fills the room, and for a moment, the kid is silent.

“Okay, it’s not terrible,” he finally admits.

“Terrible? This is a masterpiece . What do you listen to?”

“Rap and trap. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Trap? That’s not music. That’s auditory vandalism.”

Alex bursts out laughing. “You’re so old!”

“I’m not old. You’re just ignorant.”

After half an hour of debating each other’s music tastes, we end up playing a board game he found in my cabinet. It’s the only one I have and hasn’t been touched in years.

“Try to beat me,” I say, placing my piece at the starting point.

“Try? I’m going to destroy you, old man.”

The game turns into comedic chaos. Alex cheats blatantly, I call him out on it, and he plays innocent.

“It’s in the middle of the table! I saw it!” I point at his game piece.

“I didn’t touch it! Maybe you’re just forgetting things, old man.”

“Alex, if you call me that one more time, I’m throwing you out of this house.”

“I’m going to say it one more time: old man!”

That little shit.

At some point, we’re both lying on the couch.

We’ve eaten all the chips I could find in the cupboard, and we’re talking about random nonsense.

“You know, Isaac, you’re not as scary as I thought you’d be at first.”

“Scary?” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m polite.”

“You’re more like the grumpy uncle everyone loves at family dinners.”

“And you’re like the annoying nephew everyone wants to get rid of.”

We laugh again, and somewhere in the middle of all this, Dean walks in.

Dean

Isaac is sitting on the living room floor, his back against the couch, while Alex sits cross-legged across from him.

There’s a board game between them, and they’re laughing so loudly they don’t even notice I’ve walked in.

Alex throws his hands in the air. “Told you I’d beat you!”

Isaac smiles, shaking his head. “And if you hadn’t cheated so blatantly, I might have been impressed.”

I stand there, frozen, my bag still slung over my shoulder. “What… is going on here?”

Alex is the first to turn around, flashing me a wide grin. “Dean! Isaac’s awesome! We played games, talked, and he made me listen to some of his old records. He’s like the cool big brother I never had!”

I froze.

“Screw you.”

I look at Isaac, who glances up at me and gives me one of his trademark indifferent stares.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, shrugging. “He’s alright. For a thirteen-year-old.”

“You, who don’t like anyone, think Alex is alright?” I say, still trying to process the situation.

Alex interrupts. “He’s got tattoos! And you know what I was thinking? We should draw on them with my markers. Let’s do it. Come on.”

“No!” I say immediately, giving Alex a serious look. “There’s no way you’re drawing on his tattoos!”

Before I can say more, Isaac cuts me off, calm as ever, but with that tone that leaves no room for argument. “Relax, Dean. I don’t mind. He can draw on them if he wants.”

I turn to him, baffled. “Seriously? You’re going to let Alex cover you in marker?”

Isaac looks at me calmly, a faint smile on his face. “Why not? It’s not a big deal. Plus, it’s fun.”

Alex cheers triumphantly and bolts up the stairs. “I’m getting my markers! I even have a gold one!”

I stand there, staring at Isaac, trying to figure out what’s changed. He looks back at me, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“I know you weren’t expecting this,” he says calmly, “but your little brother’s a good kid.”

“A good kid?” I say, still skeptical.

“Yeah. He’s got energy, humor… and he’s way less annoying than I expected.”

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult, but I smile anyway. “He’s a good kid. But how did you even tolerate him? He usually talks nonstop.”

Isaac laughs. “He reminds me of you. You talk a lot when you want to.”

I stare at him, confused. “Me? We’re nothing alike.”

He shakes his head. “You look like twins. And, if you ask me, you have way more in common with him than you think. You just won’t admit it.”

Before I can respond, Alex bursts back into the room, holding a box full of markers. “Okay, I’m ready! Sit still, Isaac. You’re about to become a masterpiece!”

29. I’m 13, Not Stupid

Dean

I laugh quietly, taking a step back, but Alex suddenly turns to me. “Dean! Come on, there’s so much space on him. You can draw this here!” He points to a tattoo on Isaac’s arm.

“No, thanks,” I immediately say, raising my hands defensively. “I’m not into that.”

Before Alex can protest, Isaac jumps in. “Come on, Dean. Look at this.”

He pulls his collar slightly, showing the tattoo on his neck, a delicate design that ends in a circle with an arrow.

“It’s perfect for filling in. Look how much space it has.”

My heart beats loudly for no reason. Just the idea of getting that close to him is enough to make me freeze.

“There’s… there’s no need,” I say, trying to sound calm. “Let Alex do it.”

Alex protests. “Come on, Dean! It’s better if we all do it together. Like a family activity!”

“ Family activity?“ I repeat, almost laughing.

Isaac smiles crookedly and taps the tattoo on his neck with his fingers.

“Well, if you don’t do it, I’ll leave it blank. And your little one will be disappointed.”

Alex looks at me with those big eyes of his, full of pleading. I sigh deeply. “Alright. But don’t expect anything perfect.” 

I sit next to Isaac, so close that I can feel the warmth of his body.

I take a marker from Alex’s box, but my hands are trembling slightly. I try to hide it, of course.

Isaac tilts his head slightly to the side, revealing his neck. “Let’s go. It doesn’t bite.”

“I know,” I say, but my voice comes out a little weaker than I wanted.

I move closer and gently touch his shoulder to steady myself.

His skin feels warm under my fingers, and I try to ignore how oddly comfortable it feels.

“What color?” I ask, desperately looking for something to say.

“Something bright. Maybe red?” he says, grinning mischievously.

I open the marker and begin to color in the tattoo. Alex is next to us, constantly commenting.

“Dean, you’re doing a good job!”

“Shh,” I say, trying to concentrate.

Isaac laughs. “Don’t stress him out, little guy. It’s like he’s performing surgery.”

I turn and look at him with a slight smile. “Don’t move, or I’ll mess it up.”

“You’re probably right,” he says. “But, you know, you’re doing way better than I expected.”

At some point, Alex starts laughing so loud that I can’t focus. “Dean, add some blue! The red is boring.”

“Alex, it’s not your decision!” I say, trying to sound firm.

“Don’t be so uptight,” Isaac says. “Let the little guy get involved.”

We all look at each other and burst out laughing. Alex leans over me, hands me a blue marker, and starts pointing to where I should put it.

“Here! And here!”

Despite the chaos, we’re having fun. Alex and I throw jokes, and Isaac returns them, smiling lazily.

But in my mind, there were more than just funny thoughts.

Every time my fingers touched his skin, something inside me shifted. I shouldn’t be thinking like this.

I shouldn’t even be feeling like this.

And yet, here I was. Smiling, laughing, and for a moment, I felt so close to Isaac that everything else seemed to disappear.

Later that night

I brush my teeth, and so does Alex, and finally, we fall into bed. “Dean, Isaac is perfect, right?” he says, without looking at me, as he stares at the ceiling.

“He’s… an interesting guy,” I say, playing with my words.

“Interesting?” He turns to me, with a look that makes me laugh. “I say he’s the coolest guy I’ve met.”

“Oh, really?” I say, trying to sound indifferent. “And Carter? You said you liked him back then”.

Alex shrugs, as if he doesn’t care. “No. I lied just because you liked him or whatever. But with Isaac it’s different”.

I stare at him shocked.

“Isaac’s more real. He doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not. And you know what else?”

“What?” I ask, even though something inside me tells me I’ll regret asking.

“I think you two should be together.”

His words hit me like a bolt of lightning. “What?”

Alex looks at me seriously. “You and Isaac. You’re a perfect match. He’s funny, cool, he gets you. And he doesn’t care that you’re grumpy all the time.”

“Alex, I don’t…” I start, but I don’t know how to continue. “That’s not how things are. I don’t see Isaac like that.”

Alex raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “I’m 13, not stupid.”

His statement freezes me. I look at his face, searching for any sign that he’s joking, but he’s not.

“Alex…” I start, but he interrupts me.

“Seriously, Dean. You keep looking at him. And when you’re close to him, you talk differently. Like you don’t know where to put your hands. Like you’re afraid you’ll say something wrong.”

I don’t know what to say. I just look at him, feeling the ground slip away from under me.

“Okay,” Alex continues, with a tone that’s almost reassuring. “You don’t have to tell me. But if you want my opinion, you’d be perfect together. And he also has nice tattoos. He’s so cool.” he says in excitement.

“anyways, goodnight Dean.”

He turns to the side, pulling the blanket over him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

For the first time in a long time, I can’t find anything to say.

30. Eyes Filled With Shame

Dean

As I woke up, I knew I had to hurry. I had to take Alex back to our dad before heading to college.

My mind, however, was still stuck on what Alex had said last night. Every time I thought about it, I caught myself dismissing it. I couldn’t understand why.

Isaac was waiting by the door, leaning casually against the frame with that effortlessly cool aura he always carried.

Alex darted toward him with his usual energy, while I hung back, letting them have their moment.

“Wait here,” Isaac said suddenly, turning back into the apartment.

Alex looked confused for a second, but before he could ask anything, Isaac returned, holding a vinyl record in his hand.

“This is for you,” he said, handing it to Alex.

It was an album from a classic rock band they’d talked about yesterday or something.

The cover was slightly worn, but it made it all the more authentic.

Alex stared at it, his jaw practically on the floor. “No way! Is this real? Like, yours?”

Isaac smirked. “It’s one of my favorites, but I think you’ll appreciate it more now.”

Alex clutched the record like it was the greatest treasure he’d ever been given.

“This is so freaking cool! Dean, did you see this?” He spun around to show me, his excitement almost blinding. “I told you he’s the coolest guy I’ve ever met!”

For a moment, Isaac froze, his confident exterior cracking just enough to show a hint of surprise. Then he shrugged, offering Alex a small, genuine smile. “Take care of it, alright?”

“Alright, Alex, let’s go,” I cut in, stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re running late.”

I didn’t look back as I shut the door behind us, but Isaac’s smirk lingered in my mind far longer than I wanted to admit.

We got into the car, and for a while, silence ruled.

Alex, of course, couldn’t stand the quiet for long.

“You know what I want to do when I grow up? Be like Isaac.” he suddenly said.

I laughed, mostly out of awkwardness. “I don’t think Dad would approve of that.”

“Dad doesn’t understand,” Alex said firmly. Then he turned to me. “I think he likes you, too.”

“What? No. That’s not possible. Isaac doesn’t like anyone like that.” I replied sharply. “That’s not how things are.”

“Dean, you’re so dumb. It’s so obvious!” Alex said, giving me a look that made it clear he’d figured something out that I refused to admit.

“Alex, don’t start.”

“You’re such a coward. You always deny the truth when it’s staring you in the face,” he continued, crossing his arms like he’d won some unofficial argument.

I didn’t respond. I just turned my gaze back to the road ahead, feeling my mind fill with thoughts I didn’t want to have.

At home

The door swung open abruptly, and there she was.

A woman with a cigarette in hand, her fingers yellowed from nicotine. She wore an old, stretched-out T-shirt that didn’t fit her properly, and a pair of sweatpants that looked like they hadn’t been washed in days.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, with loose strands falling awkwardly around her face.

She had the look of someone who had never won anything in life—and had made peace with it.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice rough, with not a shred of curiosity or care.

“We’re Darren’s kids,” I replied, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

“He didn’t tell me he had kids,” she muttered, as if it didn’t matter at all. Taking a drag from her cigarette, she stepped aside half-heartedly, and I gently pushed her out of the way to get past her.

The house, predictably, was a disaster.

Dirty plates with dried-up food were piled on the table, pizza boxes were scattered across the floor, and the couch was stained in ways I didn’t want to imagine. The smell was a mix of smoke, stale food, and something sharper—almost chemical. The windows were half-shut, letting in just enough light to highlight the filth.

I looked at Alex.

He looked back at me, his eyes filled with shame. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

“This is what you meant when you said you’d do better?” I asked, turning to our dad. He was sprawled on the couch, shirtless, with a half-empty beer can beside him. He looked half-asleep, but it was clear he knew we were there. He just didn’t care.

“Alex, go to your room,” I said.

He obeyed, but not before looking at me one more time. I saw the sadness in his eyes. The familiar sadness he didn’t deserve to feel.

I stepped closer to our father, who didn’t even bother to move.

“Don’t you feel sorry for him?” I asked calmly, keeping my anger buried beneath the surface.

“Don’t you care that this kid has to see different trashy women in this house every day? It wouldn’t take much for me to fight for custody and win. I have enough evidence—believe me, more than enough. He deserves better than this.” I gestured around the room, emphasizing the decay and neglect.

He didn’t say anything. He never did. That’s just how he was.

We exchanged a few more words—hollow and meaningless, with no intention of change on his part. Eventually, I stepped back, grabbed my bag, and walked out.

I got into the car and shut the door behind me. For a moment, I just sat there, resting my forehead on the steering wheel.

I didn’t want to leave, but I had no other choice. Just like always.

31. Do You Like Him Or Something?

At Work - Dean

The restaurant is packed with people. Voices, the sound of glass clinking, and cutlery scraping against plates fill the air. I tighten my grip on the tray and weave my way through the tables. Katie is already ahead of me, balancing her tray with four plates on it.

“Can we cancel Mondays?” she asks as she brushes past me.

“I live for this moment” I reply.

I drop off the drinks and dessert at table 12, flash a quick smile at the customers, and head back to the counter to refill my tray with clean glasses. Katie follows close behind, wiping sweat from her forehead.

“If I don’t quit today, you owe me a drink,” she says, shooting a death glare at table nine, where a customer seems to be complaining about something.

“What did you do this time?” I ask.

“Me? Nothing . He just asked for something off the menu and is yelling because we don’t have caviar.”

“Caviar? In a restaurant that serves bruschetta?”

“Don’t even, Dean. If I hear the word

adjustment one more time, I’ll start screaming,“ she says, and I can’t help but smile despite how exhausted I am.

The holiday shifts are actually going to kill me.

“How’s it going for you?” she asks, and I glance up at the ceiling in despair.

“Table 12 asked for extra cutlery because their kid threw the rest into the planter. Table five wants to change their order even though half of it’s already been prepared, and table three sent back their wine because it ‘didn’t have enough aftertaste.’”

Katie laughs as she picks up her tray again. “Bliss,” she says, walking off.

As she walks away, I hear her yell back at me. “By the way, what happened with your friend Ivan?”

I look at her, confused. “Who?”

“You know, your roommate.”

Oh.

“Isaac. And I wouldn’t exactly call us friends.”

“Still trying not to strangle him?” she asks.

I shrug and don’t answer.

“What? You’re not mad at him anymore?”

“I am. I just… maybe I was a little too harsh on him,” I admit, putting cutlery on my tray.

“When I told you that, you said you should’ve been even harder on him,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Maybe I judged him too quickly,” I continue, trying to keep my voice neutral. “We talked the other day about something serious, and I realized he might not be as bad as I thought.”

“Oh my God, is he flirting with you to mess with your head? That’d be smart. With looks like his, honestly, it’s a miracle you’ve held your temper this long,” she says, and I quickly walk away to drop off the cutlery and wine.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask.

“Everything. If he were ugly, you wouldn’t have even bothered to listen to him.”

“I didn’t listen to him because he’s good-looking. I listened because he had something to say,” I argue.

“So, you’re not even a little interested?” she asks, and I’m left staring at her like an idiot, caught off guard by the question.

“No,” I say, almost mechanically.

“…Are you sure?” she asks, and her tone softens unexpectedly.

“Yes. Why are you asking so much? Do you like him or something?” I ask, laughing as I nudge her playfully.

“Yes,” she answers, and my smile disappears.

I swallow hard and glance around, trying to think of something to say.

I start laughing lightly, a bit awkwardly, waiting for her to laugh too.

But instead, she just looks at me patiently, as if expecting an answer.

“Are you serious?” I ask.

“Yes. My love life is nonexistent lately, and from everything you’ve told me about Isaac, he seems like a total jerk—exactly my type. So, I thought maybe you could casually invite me over to your place. I’ll meet him there and try to get his attention.”

I froze for a second, just long enough to feel my stomach twist into a knot.

“I don’t think he’s that easy,” I replied, trying to sound carefree.

“What? Are you saying I can’t win him over?” she asked with a smirk.

“I’m not saying that. I just think he might not even notice you,” I teased.

“Not notice me?” she said, pretending to be offended, but then she laughed.

“Take me to your place, and if I can’t make it happen, I promise I’ll never bring him up again.”

“I suggest you don’t bring him—or anything, really—up for the rest of the day. You’ve been talking my ears off,” Ethan called out jokingly from the kitchen, making both of us laugh.

“You said he’s not limited when it comes to who he’s into, so I think I have a chance,” she whispered, and for a moment, my brain froze again.

But this time, I snapped out of it quickly, realizing that it really didn’t bother me.

Why would it bother me?

“Alright,” I said with a smile. “But don’t expect too much. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“We’ll see about that. When should I come over?”

“In a hurry?” I asked.

“When it comes to this kind of thing, always,” she replied.

“Then come today.”

“You’ve just made my day,” she said with a wink before grabbing her tray and disappearing into the tables.

I watched her leave. I really did feel strange. Shaking my head slightly to snap out of it, I walked over to table nine, which, once again, seemed to have an issue.

32. I Don’t Want Your Attention

Dean

I finally finished, and Katie made her way to my car with her usual confidence.

She got in, and before I could start the engine, she asked if I thought she was beautiful. She played with her ginger hair, the kind that always seemed to shine under any light.

She was beautiful, and that made me nervous.

It was almost annoying how sure of herself she was.

“You’re average,” I said, with the calmest voice I could muster. She squinted her eyes and threw me a fake insult, but I smiled. I knew she couldn’t resist teasing me.

When we arrived, I saw cars filling the street outside the house. Lights flashed from the living room window, and music was booming from inside.

“You’re lucky,” I said, gesturing toward the house. “Our favorite Isaac is throwing a party.” I say ironically.

She smiled mischievously. “Surely not for me?”

I didn’t respond.

We went inside, and the atmosphere was already thick with smoke and laughter.

Among the crowd squeezing through everywhere, I spotted Isaac. He was talking to a group, and they were looking at him like he was a star.

“Stay here,” I told Katie, pointing to a corner of the living room. “I’m going to bring him over.”

I didn’t expect an answer. I knew she’d find a way to ignore me.

I made my way over to him.

He stood out, as always.

His silver earrings caught the light from the lamps, and the tattoo on his neck seemed even more prominent now as he tilted his head slightly.

He looked dazed, I could tell from the way he stood, his head slightly moving to the rhythm of the music.

I touched his shoulder and turned him toward me. His half-closed eyes locked onto mine instantly.

“You’re here?” he murmured, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Surprised? I don’t miss your parties,” I replied sarcastically, looking him straight in the eye.

He smiled slowly, that crooked smile I knew all too well. “Careful, I might think you’ve got a thing for me,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

I leaned in closer, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “And what if you’re right?” The words slipped out of me impulsively.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me with that playful look. “Then you’re probably bolder than I thought.”

I exhaled and nodded. “I’m messing with you” I grabbed his wrist and gently pulled him toward the door, letting him decide if he’d resist. He didn’t.

“Where are we going?” he asked as I guided him through the crowd.

“There’s a girl who wants to meet you.”

“And you brought her? How polite.” His voice was full of irony, but he followed.

“Come on, hurry up, I want to go grab something to put in my mouth . I’m starving.”

Isaac turned his head and gave me -that- look.

He leaned into my ear, so close that his cologne hit me, and with a voice full of irony and confidence, he said, “I’ve got something you can put in your mouth. Trust me, it’ll fill you up.”

For a moment, I froze. I stared at him, trying to show the disgust I should have been feeling. A part of me wanted to slap him for his sheer audacity.

But… damn it, that wasn’t all.

Deep inside, another version of me was fighting to be heard. One that wanted to laugh, to say something just as provocative. One that, for a fleeting second, wished I could respond the way I really wanted to.

Instead, I turned my gaze away, took a step back.

I led him to where I had left Katie, who was standing with her arms crossed, waiting for us. “I brought you the show of the night,” I said, giving Isaac a glance.

“I’m always the show, Dean,” he said, leaning against the wall and smiling. And he was right.

Isaac

Dean was standing next to a girl, taller than I expected, with long ginger hair framing a face full of confidence.

“Katie,” he said, gesturing toward me.

She extended her hand for a handshake. I looked at it for a moment before shaking it loosely. I wasn’t sure what was going on here, but Dean smiled awkwardly, like he had just closed some deal.

Katie looked at him and gave a small nod. “Leave now,” she told him in a tone that left no room for argument.

Dean shrugged and walked away, leaving us alone.

I looked at her, leaning against the wall, trying to read her expression. She seemed relaxed, but I could spot a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

“So?” I said.

She spoke first. “Dean thought it would be a good idea for us to meet. He said you’re… special.”

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Dean brought you here to meet me?”

She nodded, tilting her head slightly. “He insisted. So, I decided to do him a favor.”

Her words were full of implications, but her eyes spoke louder.

I didn’t expect this from Dean. To set me up with someone? It felt completely out of character.

I smiled indifferently and took a step closer to her. “Interesting.”

She didn’t say anything, just looked at me, waiting to see how I would react. He wanted to play? Fine, let’s play.

I leaned in slightly, bringing my lips to hers in a gesture that was more playful than serious. There was nothing deep or intense about the kiss—just a moment where I cut her off in the middle of her sentence.

I pulled back slightly and looked her in the eyes, still smiling. “Tell Dean not to try again. I’m not interested.” I said, and then lost myself in the crowd again.

Dean - 1 Hour Later

I was searching for Katie in the crowd, and eventually, I found her.

She was sitting on a couch, black tears rolling down her cheeks.

The idiot…

I shoved my way through some people to get closer to her.

“Katie? What happened?” I asked, and she tried to speak through her sobs.

“He-he said…” she started, taking a sharp breath. “He said he isn’t in-interested!” Her words came out tangled, almost broken by the pain. “That… that I… I’m not… what he’s l-looking f-for!”

A bitterness pierced through me.

I exhaled but, at the same time, tried to keep my voice gentle.

“Katie, listen to me. Isaac… that’s just how he is. He’s an idiot. I wish I were lying, but he is.” I leaned in a bit, placing my hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her down a little. “You deserve something better, you know that?”

But she didn’t get it. Her gaze was blank, lost in the pain.

Even though I was trying to comfort her, inside I felt a wave of relief.

I knew it was wrong.

I was a bad friend for feeling this, but… I was relieved.

I don’t know what I would’ve done if Katie had moved forward with Isaac.

For now, though, I wanted to give him a piece of my mind for the way he treated her.

The house seemed to be spiraling out of control. People everywhere, laughter and voices louder than the music. I was looking for Isaac, the only person who could be responsible for this mess. I found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand, completely relaxed, as if there was nothing but him and the moment.

“Isaac,” I said loudly, trying to be heard over the noise.

He slowly turned his head, his smile almost annoyingly calm. “Hey, Dean. Came to set me up with someone else this time?”

“Can we talk?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

He made a small gesture, like he was saying “of course. I always have time for you.”

I ignored his tone and went straight to the point. “Why were you so rude to Katie? You didn’t treat her well, Isaac.”

He leaned back a bit, resting his weight on the counter, and gave me a look that seemed to laugh at me.

“Really, Dean? You came to lecture me about Katie?”

“You could’ve rejected her more politely,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

His smile grew wider, like I’d said something incredibly funny. “What do you want me to do? Write her a poem? You picked her, not me, that’s what she told me.”

I felt the heat rising to my face. I didn’t respond. “That’s not the point. It was rude, and you know it.”

Isaac shrugged indifferently, like our conversation didn’t matter. “Maybe. Maybe I just don’t have time for people I’m not interested in.”

This guy was impossible to communicate with. I sighed and changed the subject. “The party… Why is it so big? What are we celebrating this time?”

Isaac leaned forward slightly, his gaze locked on mine. His smile became more enigmatic, more intense.

“We’re celebrating life, Dean! You know, that thing you forget to do when you chase me around for pointless conversations.”

“You know, Dean, sometimes I wonder. Does the party bother you… or is it the fact that everyone here has my attention, except you?”

I stood still, his words hitting me like a punch to the stomach.

He, of course, realized it and added, lowering his voice,

“If you want my attention, all you have to do is say it,” he shouted in my ear so I could hear him.

“I don’t need your attention,” I shouted back.

“You don’t need my attention?! Let me think, who was that guy…the other day in my bed, who was hitting on me way too much, and I was struggling with all my might to keep him away, but he just couldn’t hold back, and he happily put his hand on my dick too? Oh yeah! It was you, Dean Clark!”

My eyes immediately went wide, and I looked around to make sure no one had heard.

What?

Wait, what?

I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I had been hit by an electric shock. I didn’t understand, I couldn’t believe it. It was impossible.

How? When did I do that? I didn’t remember anything from that day. I was left in a fog, wondering if I had created that image in Isaac’s mind.

If he made it up just to mess with me. I couldn’t imagine that I would be the one to put him in such a position. What did this mean? Had I understood correctly? If I had really done it, then… what did it mean for me and what was happening between us?

My heart started beating faster.

The feeling that something wasn’t right with all this filled me with discomfort and anxiety. I began to feel trapped, like I was in a cage I had built myself, with Isaac being the only one who had the keys.

In my attempt to understand what was going on, I felt my instincts take control.

I had to stop him, pull him out of the chaos, talk without the shades and lies of the party. I needed to know the truth, but he had already slipped away, and I found myself at a dead end.

Before I could do anything, though, luck “put” me in an even weirder position.

We ran into Katie. I saw her, and I had the feeling that this encounter was the last thing I needed at that moment. Katie was upset, and her gaze showed that she wanted to leave.

“Dean, can I go?” Her voice was somewhat broken, and immediately, I felt worried.

I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about Isaac at that moment. All I wanted was to help her leave this madness, this chaos the party had created. I grabbed her immediately and led her to the car, but my mind… my mind was full of what Isaac had said.

I couldn’t figure out if Isaac’s mind was playing tricks on me or if I was the one blinded by the situation. I felt like I had lost control.

I didn’t remember doing any of the things Isaac said. But why then had he said them? Was he telling the truth? My mind clouded with doubts and assumptions.

All I knew was that something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t ready to accept it.

33. I Trusted You

The Next Day - Dean

I was still trying to figure out what had happened last night.

All of Isaac’s words were spinning in my head, but something was holding me back from asking him directly.

I was embarrassed.

I was embarrassed because deep down, I knew I might have actually done those things.

The fact that I couldn’t remember anything made me anxious and filled with guilt.

No matter how hard I tried to forget it, the image of Isaac leaving lingered.

I decided to clean up the mess from last night.

I had to do it, at least for my own sake.

I hesitated as I entered his room, looking at the bed.

I couldn’t recall any specific memory from that night, and the room seemed to have already been cleaned by Isaac, as if he knew something had gone wrong.

Everything was in place, except for a few plastic containers that were left.

I approached the desk to collect them, and then… my eyes fell on an envelope.

The name on it was “Sergei.”

My curiosity immediately stirred. I didn’t want to meddle in Isaac’s business, but Sergei… was a different kind of person.

I felt something pushing me to open it.

So I did.

I opened the envelope and found three sheets of paper inside, filled with details that seemed to be…records of illegal activities.

There were names, dates, amounts of money.

Some of the documents referred to thefts and blackmail. When I turned to the photos, I felt my hand trembling.

In the first ones, Isaac appeared to be in contact with shady individuals, with packages that shouldn’t have existed.

One photo showed Isaac handing money to a man with dark glasses.

Other pictures showed him in a warehouse, surrounded by weapons and drugs.

In another, Isaac was exchanging a large sum of money with another person in a dark alley.

At the end of the envelope, there were more photos showing people who had disappeared, their names written at the bottom of the images.

All of these things, together, were enough to piece together a truth I didn’t want to see.

Isaac

I unlocked the door and walked into the house, feeling a surge of pride. “I cleaned up the mess before I left, Dean!”

I shouted, expecting a response, but… nothing came.

“What, are you mad now because of what I said? Don’t try to deny those things, I know I flirt a lot too, but at least i’m honest about it” I say proudly.

At first, I thought maybe he was just being quiet, but as I walked upstairs, my excitement started to fade.

I entered the room and there… there was Dean, sitting on the floor with the envelope in his hands.

All the color drained from my face.

“No, no, no, no,” I whispered to myself, trying to calm down.

I was in panic.

I rushed into the room and grabbed the envelope from Dean’s hands, but his gaze froze me.

It was cold, something I had never seen in him before.

My heart started pounding, and he just… lifted his head and looked at me. And then, I heard the words that made something inside me break. “Shit, Dean, let me explain, these are—”

“I trusted you with my little brother,” he said, and every word hit me like a hammer.

Something inside me crumbled.

I didn’t know if I should scream or run away.

All I knew was that Dean was disappointed, and that was the most painful thing of all.

But before I could say anything, Dean started yelling. “I found everything I needed in the envelope! You’re the last person I ever expected to see this from! I thought you had a good heart! I freaking trusted you with my little brother!” He was yelling so loudly I couldn’t think straight.

My panic started to rise, and my anger followed.

I couldn’t stand hearing Dean accuse me of things he didn’t know the full truth about.

“Those things you found aren’t what you think!” I shouted, trying to keep my composure, but I couldn’t. “Dean, you don’t understand, damn it! I didn’t hurt anyone! I mean it!”

He started cursing. “How could I trust someone like you? Just when I was trying to have a good relationship with you, everything fell apart! Everything!” Each word was like a bullet.

I didn’t know how to react. I felt like I had nowhere to go.

His trust had shattered, and the worst part was I couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t know if I can live with you anymore, Isaac. This is too much” he said in the most broken tone, and his gaze had no hint of doubt.

All I could do was stare at him, knowing that no matter what I said, nothing could help me.

Dean

I walk past Isaac, who’s still sitting next to his door. I don’t look at him, I don’t say anything.

All I want is to get away. I step into my room, shut the door, and start getting dressed.

My movements are rushed, nervous.

I put on my shoes quickly, checking my pockets for my keys.

The space around me feels suffocating.

Everything here screams Isaac.

And I can’t handle that right now.

I leave the house and take a deep breath. The cold night air hits my face, but I don’t care. I’m trying to clear my mind, but my thoughts keep circling back to Isaac.

I’m furious. Absolutely furious.

I’d started to feel comfortable with him, to trust him. And now… now it feels like he’s a stranger again.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, though, I’m terrified. What would happen if someone else found that folder? Who knows what could happen to him?

But I can’t think about that right now. I just need to get away from all of this.

My mind was a mess, tangled up in the chaos of living with Isaac, and I needed a break.

And then I saw him.

My ex.

Lucas.

He was standing a little ahead, in front of a bookstore window. His wavy, light brown hair fell messily across his forehead, and he wore a dark coat that complemented his slender frame. The glasses perched on his nose caught the light from the display, giving him a familiar yet slightly different air.

He seemed lost in thought, but his face still carried that warmth I remembered so well. I don’t know why, but something stopped me from just walking past him.

“Lucas?”

He turned abruptly, his eyes wide with surprise. A smile immediately spread across his lips, and his glasses slipped slightly down his nose.

“Dean? What… what are you doing here?”

“Just walking,” I said, feeling a little awkward. “You?”

“Me? Oh, nothing really, just browsing. I can’t believe I’m seeing you.”

I gave a faint smile. “Yeah, it’s been… two years?”

“Two years,” he echoed, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. He paused for a moment, seemingly searching for the right words. “Do you have time? Want to sit down somewhere? A coffee wouldn’t hurt.”

I looked at him, at that familiar expression that always made me feel a little strange. “Sure,” I replied, and the two of us made our way to a small café on the corner.

We sat across from each other, and Lucas dove into the conversation almost immediately, with the same warmth and spontaneity I remembered.

“You know, my life’s been kind of different lately. I left my job a few months ago. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I decided to try something more my own.”

“Sounds like a big change,” I said, picking up my cup.

“It is. But I think it was necessary. What about you? How have you been?”

“Good,” I replied. “I’m living with a roommate now. You know, for financial reasons. It’s easier that way.”

If only he knew.

He seemed interested but didn’t pry too much, which made me relax. “It’s good to have someone at home, even if it’s just for the basics.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

The conversation flowed. Lucas talked about his life, about friends he’d lost touch with, about trips he wanted to take. He was honest, open, maybe even a little nostalgic.

At some point, after our cups were almost empty, he leaned forward. “Dean, I need to say something.”

“Go on.”

He took a breath. “I didn’t like how things ended between us. It was wrong. I know I probably messed things up, but I never wanted things to end that way.”

His words caught me off guard. I felt his gaze on me, waiting for a response.

“It was a rough time,” I said, avoiding direct eye contact. “But maybe it had to happen.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try to reconnect. I’m not saying we should force anything. Just… see where it goes.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, fidgeting with my spoon. The truth was, this coffee had pulled me out of my thoughts about Isaac and the chaos I’d been caught in.

Maybe seeing Lucas again was exactly what I needed.

“Alright,” I finally said. “We can try. See how it goes.”

His smile was warm and reassuring. “I’m glad you said that. I’ve missed you, you know.”

I nodded slightly, letting his words linger in the air. I didn’t know where this would lead, but for the first time in a while, I felt like I could let my mind drift away from everything else.

34. I Lost It

Isaac

Sweat poured down my face, dripping onto the gym floor.

My hands were trembling from the intensity, but I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop. I had to burn this fire inside me, had to find a way to drown it.

My fists slammed into the punching bag with everything I had, each strike harder than the last.

My gloves were heavy with sweat, my hands numb, but it didn’t matter.

I wanted the pain. I needed it.

Thoughts of Dean flooded my mind. The image of his face when he opened the file.

The look of terror, the absolute silence that followed.

It was the last thing I wanted.

The last person who should’ve learned about this side of my life.

I clenched my teeth, hitting the bag even harder. I couldn’t erase the memory of how I had scared him. How I saw him step back, as if I wasn’t me anymore, as if I were someone else.

Someone he didn’t recognize.

I moved to the weights and loaded more than I usually did. Sitting down, I took a deep breath and started lifting.

The strain in my arms was unbearable, my muscles screamed for me to stop, but I didn’t listen.

I had to drown out the pain inside me, even if just for a little while.

Every rep was an attempt to escape myself. From the guilt.

How could I have let him find that file? How did I not notice?

I saw the fear in his eyes. He looked at me like I was a monster.

And it killed me. I never wanted him to know. I never wanted him to see.

By the end of the workout, I could barely stand. My legs shook, my arms throbbed with pain, and every breath felt short, as if I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.

But the pain didn’t go away.

It was still there. Deep inside me.

1 hour later

I came home exhausted, my body heavy, my muscles screaming in constant protest.

I closed the door behind me and stood still for a moment, trying to muster the strength to climb the stairs.

Dean was there, sitting on the couch in the living room, a book in his hands.

The moment he saw me, he lifted his gaze, and for a brief moment, our eyes met.

No emotion. No sign of anything beyond that cold, lifeless exchange.

“Hi,” I said, my voice empty, almost mechanical.

“Hi,” he replied in the same tone, then returned to his book without another movement.

That was it. Just a “hi.”

I climbed the stairs slowly, my steps heavy, trying to ignore the awkward tension that lingered in the air. My room was my sanctuary, and the shower was the only promise of relief after this day.

The water ran over me, hot and soothing, washing away all the tension and sweat from the gym. I wanted to stay there forever, but exhaustion pulled me back.

I stepped out of the bathroom, my body wrapped in a towel, my hair still wet.

As I passed Dean’s room, I noticed his door was slightly open.

His desk was a mess, papers and pencils scattered everywhere. He sat in his chair, slightly hunched over a drawing. It was for his school, no doubt about it.

I couldn’t clearly see what he was working on, but his hands moved quickly, with precision and confidence.

I got dressed slowly and returned to his door. For a moment, I thought about not disturbing him.

But, hesitantly, I knocked and stepped inside.

He lifted his head, the pencil still in his hand. His expression was cold.

“What are you doing here?” he asked sharply. “I don’t remember ordering any drugs.”

I exhaled, trying not to let his comment get to me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about or what was that, in that file.”

His lips tightened. “I don’t want to know, Isaac. Now, can you leave?”

The coldness in his voice tightened my stomach, but I didn’t back away.

Instead, I asked something that had been on my mind for a while. “What happened to that brush I gave you? Why aren’t you using it?”

Dean didn’t show any reaction. “I lost it at school,” he said flatly. “How much did it cost? I’ll pay you back for it.”

…

No.

I felt my world crumble around me.

His words hit me like a slap.

That brush wasn’t just a tool.

It belonged to my mother. Her most used brush. And now… gone. All because I decided to help Dean.

My anger erupted before I could hold it back. “You lost it? At school? You had no idea what that brush meant to me, did you?”

Dean looked up, his eyes filled with annoyance. “No, I didn’t. How could I? If it was so important to you, you shouldn’t have given it to me in the first place! Or at least, you should have told me, Isaac!”

“What was so special about it?” he asks, with guilt on his face.

I tried to calm myself, but the rage was choking my voice.

I took deep breaths, my hands clenched into fists.

“It was my mom’s. But, you’re right,” I said finally, my voice trembling.

“You didn’t know. And I shouldn’t have given it to you.”

I turned and left the room, feeling the weight of disappointment with every step.

I didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that the brush was gone or the fact that I couldn’t blame Dean for it.

Everything had gone wrong, right from the start.

————————

Hey Gadies and lentlemen, the moment we are all waiting for will come soon so be patient my pookies.

35. The Locked Room

Dean

1:00AM

The door knocked again.

I stopped what I was doing and looked over. Isaac stood there, serious. I opened the door, my surprise evident.

“What do you want?” I asked abruptly, without thinking.

“Follow me,” he said simply, ignoring my tone.

“I will not drink anything, if that’s why you came here”.

He didn’t answer.

He turned and started walking down the hall, expecting me to follow.

I sighed heavily and shut the door behind me. I followed him because, for some reason, I wanted to know.

He led me to the locked room.

The one I always avoided asking about, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

He pulled a key from his pocket, slid it into the lock, and paused for a moment before turning it.

“Isaac, what are you doing?”

He looked at me briefly, as if weighing his decision, and then said, “I’m showing you that I trust you. I want you to know why I reacted like that when I found out about the brush.”

Before I could respond, he turned the key and opened the door.

The room was full, not messy, but in a way that showed someone had worked there with passion.

Canvases leaned against the walls, some finished, others half-done.

A table was cluttered with paints, brushes of all sizes, and small jars of water that had been forgotten and were now tinted with color.

Photos were pinned here and there, most of them of a woman who looked like Isaac.

“It was your mother’s,” I said, more as a statement than a question.

He nodded and stepped inside. He stood at the center of the room and turned to look at me.

“It was her sanctuary. When she was gone, I locked it. I didn’t want to change it, to ruin it with my presence.”

I looked at him, feeling something shift inside me.

“I kept the brush to feel like I still had a piece of her with me. And when you told me it was gone… I got angry. Not at you. At myself. Because I didn’t do a better job of protecting it.”

“Isaac…” I started, but I didn’t know what to say.

I felt terrible, even though I was still super mad at him, and a part of me was kind of scared of him, too.

“I opened this room because I wanted you to know. It’s not easy for me to trust people. But I want to try.”

I felt the walls I’d built against him crumble, just a little.

It wasn’t easy for me though, to forget the photos in the envelope.

Silence. One of those moments where words suddenly felt heavier than they should. I stood there, trying to think of something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. And then, Isaac broke the silence.

“I’ve seen a guy a couple of times walking home with you. Who is he?”

I froze for a moment.

I didn’t expect that.

I felt the pressure in my chest, the way the words stuck in my throat.

“That’s none of your business,” I said at first, but I knew that wouldn’t satisfy him.

His eyes stayed fixed on me, and there was something in that look… I knew I couldn’t avoid it.

“Not that it concerns you,” I continued, “but he’s… an old friend.”

I said “friend.”

I said “friend” because what else could I say?

I wasn’t ready to share anything more. I wasn’t even sure what I’d share, even if I wanted to.

Isaac laughed awkwardly, biting the inside of his cheek, something I could tell from the slight movement in his face.

“Is he like Carter?” he asked, and I found myself shaking my head before I even thought about it.

“He’s not,” I answered simply, and that was it. I didn’t want to give anything more.

“I have studying to do,” I said curtly before he could ask another question. “I appreciate that you shared something important with me.”

My words came out sharper than I intended, and before he could respond, I had already turned and left.

In the hallway, I felt the weight of guilt pressing down on me.

The brush, Lucas… everything.

I didn’t have anything to hide, nor did I have anything going on with Isaac, yet something kept pulling me back to that room.

I didn’t know how to handle it, and that scared me.

36. He Did…What?

Dean

Christmas eve. The restaurant was chaos.

Plates clattered, customers spoke loudly, and waiters darted around like their lives depended on it.

I was among them, trying to keep my tie in place and a polite smile plastered on my face.

Fancy restaurant, remember? We weren’t supposed to look stressed.

Funny, when everyone around you seemed ready to snap.

Next to me, Katie clutched her notepad, looking desperate. We were absolutely drowning tonight.

She muttered something about the next table she had to serve when I caught her saying: “I still can’t believe he turned me down that night. Do you know how many girls would kill for a chance to date Isaac? And him? He ignored me! Me!”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

It was classic Katie—always dramatic.

“Relax, it’s not the end of the world,” I said, scribbling down an order from a nearby table.

“It doesn’t bother me!” she practically yelled, her voice almost convincing. “Seriously, I don’t care. But tell me—why me?”

I gave her a look.

“Something tells me you do care. Maybe you should—”

I was about to bring up Lucas when my words were abruptly cut off.

Isaac had just walked into the restaurant.

He was there, in the back, already sitting at a table.

His friends were with him: Mia, Nick, Adam, and Nate.

God.

They looked like they’d stepped straight out of a magazine—so polished they seemed completely out of place among the chaos.

My eyes locked on him, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. He looked as relaxed as ever, with that familiar expression that made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.

Katie turned to look, and she froze. “Nope. I’m not going. I’m not serving their table. Forget it,” she said quickly.

I raised my hands. “I don’t want to go either!”

But then she looked at me, and in the middle of all the chaos, she practically ordered me, “You’re going. Now.”

I didn’t have much of a choice. With a heavy sigh, I made my way to their table, clutching my notepad.

Mia was the first to speak. “Dean! Oh my gosh, I didn’t know you worked here! This place is so nice!” she said with an enthusiasm that sounded genuine.

I gave her a polite but disinterested smile.

I didn’t have time for fake niceties tonight.

“Yeah, I work here. Do you want to order something?”

Isaac hadn’t said a word. He just stared at me.

His gaze was locked on mine, so intense it made it hard to keep my composure.

It was heavier than the noise surrounding us.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was calm, but his words threw me off completely. “Dean, could you call Katie over? We’d like her to serve us.”

My eyes blinked in confusion.

Why the hell did he want Katie? The girl he humiliated?

She had just said she didn’t even want to go near him. Without a word, I turned and went back.

“Katie,” I said, “they’re asking for you at their table.”

Her reaction was so bizarre. She looked simultaneously excited and terrified.

“They want me? They want me?” she whispered, practically in shock.

I had no answers. All I knew was that tonight had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

Katie brushes past me, her face practically glowing with excitement. “I have news!” she says quickly, not even slowing down.

Before I can ask her anything, she’s already gone, heading up the stairs.

I’m left staring after her, confused. What news? And why the rush?

Whatever.

I drop off the food at the table and head back to the kitchen. My mouth feels dry, so I grab my water bottle from the counter. Unscrewing the cap, I take a long sip.

“Dean!” I hear her voice behind me.

I turn, and there she is, standing there with a grin that has no business being in a kitchen.

She looks like she’s ready to burst from happiness.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Katie practically bounces on the spot. “Isaac! Isaac asked me out on a date!”

Her words hit me like a slap.

The water goes down the wrong way, and I choke, coughing violently as I bend forward.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asks, concerned, though the joy in her voice doesn’t falter.

I wave her off, nodding as I regain my breath. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. He did…what?”

“You heard me right. He asked me on a date!” she says, her excitement spilling over. “He just told me there was a misunderstanding the other night at the party, and that he misjudged me. And then—get this—he said I’m really beautiful!”

Her words feel like a punch to the gut. I stand there, frozen for a moment, trying to process what she just said.

Isaac… asked Katie out? Isaac, who up until yesterday didn’t seem to care at all?

“Isn’t it amazing?” she gushes, her eyes shining with delight.

I force myself to focus. “Yeah… amazing,” I say, doing my best to sound convincing.

I glance over at Isaac’s table.

He’s still sitting there, completely relaxed, with that signature innocent smile on his face.

He’s already looking at me, like he knew I’d look at him. His gaze carries an air of superiority that I can’t ignore.

Katie, however, doesn’t notice any of this.

She keeps talking, her voice practically singing with excitement. “I can’t believe it! He seemed so… so sweet! And honest! He said he wanted to clear the air with me. And then he… oh, Dean, he asked me out! I think I like him!”

There’s a tightness in my chest that I can’t shake.

I try not to let it show. “Really? That’s… that’s great, Katie.”

She doesn’t even notice the hesitation in my voice.

She keeps talking about how she’s going to prepare for the date, while I glance back at Isaac.

He looks at me. His smile has grown wider.

I don’t know if he’s trying to provoke me or if he’s just that smug.

My mind is racing.

What changed all of a sudden?

Isaac never does anything without a reason.

Well, actually that’s all he does. But why now?

“Dean? Are you listening?” Katie’s voice snaps me back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening,” I say quickly. I take a deep breath and force a smile. “I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Aw, thank you!” she says, beaming. “You’re the best, you know that?”

I give her a faint smile.

I don’t tell her how much her over-the-top joy is starting to irritate me.

I don’t tell her how weird all of this feels.

Instead, I grab the tray with the next order and head back out to the tables.

I need air.

As I walk, only one thought runs through my mind: What the hell is going on in my life?

Exhausted and with no energy left, I gather my things. I don’t even bother saying goodnight to anyone. I just want this day to be over.

I still have to go pick up Alex. We are spending Christmas together, thankfully.

As I step out the back door of the restaurant, my eyes fall on Katie.

She’s in the parking lot, smiling as she walks toward Isaac’s black car.

She stops in front of the passenger door, and he opens it for her.

Katie does this silly, exaggerated movement—probably trying to impress him, and slides into the seat.

Whatever.

I look away and get into my own car. Shutting the door, I take a moment as the noise of the outside world disappears. I press the button to start the car, and my phone vibrates.

There’s a missed call from Lucas.

With a sigh, I call him back. The phone rings a few times before he picks up.

“Dean!” Lucas’s voice comes through, warm and familiar.

“Hey. You called?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you want to hang out tomorrow. Go for a walk or something?”

“Tomorrow?” I rack my brain for any plans. Nothing comes to mind. “Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking we could take a walk in the park, then maybe head back to my place. I could put on a movie or cook something. Just chill, you know?”

Silence. I don’t know why I hesitate.

It’s Lucas, we always have a good time together.

Still, the idea of going to his place makes me pause for some reason.

“What do you think?” he asks, breaking the silence. His voice is calm, but there’s a hint of expectation there.

I take a breath. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s do it.”

“Great!” he says, and I can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Tomorrow afternoon, then?”

“Yeah, tomorrow afternoon.”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the time. Talk to you later, Dean!”

“Talk later.”

I end the call and toss the phone onto the passenger seat. Exhaling deeply, I grip the steering wheel and just sit there for a moment.

What’s wrong with me? It’s just Lucas.

I shake it off, start the car, and head home to pick up Alex.

37. -You’re Jealous!-

Dean

Driving Alex home, I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

Ever since the incident with Sergei, there was this lingering tension in the back of my mind. I didn’t let it show, but it was there always.

Alex, though, seemed oblivious, sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window. His presence was comforting in its own way, even if I couldn’t shake my nerves.

We finally pulled up to the house, and I got out of the car, waiting for Alex to follow.

Once we were inside, I locked the door behind us, checking it twice before heading to the living room.

“Sorry,” I said after a moment of silence.

Alex looked up at me, confused. “For what?”

“For not taking you somewhere nice to celebrate Christmas,” I admitted, scratching the back of my neck. “We should’ve gone out, done something special. But instead, we’re just… here.”

Alex shrugged, completely unbothered. “I don’t care about that,” he said simply. “I’m just glad I’m here with you and not with dad and his disgusting girlfriend.”

I sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. He didn’t deserve to be in the middle of all this.

“Still, it’s not fair to you,” I muttered.

“Dean, seriously, stop,” he said firmly, giving me a look. “I’m fine. This is better. Way better.”

His words settled something in me, even if just a little.

“Alright,” I said, forcing a small smile. “How about we make some cookies instead? Something fun.”

Alex’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s see if we have all the ingredients,” I said, heading toward the counter.

We pulled out all the ingredients and started mixing dough, laughing as Alex spilled flour everywhere.

When it came time to cut out shapes, things got even messier.

“Dean, look at this one!” Alex said, holding up a blob of dough. “It’s a snowman!”

“More like a melted snowman,” I teased, and he shoved me lightly, grinning.

1 Hour Later

We baked the cookies, and as soon as they came out, Alex started decorating them. I joined him, and before long, we were both laughing at the ridiculous shapes we’d made.

“Check this out!” Alex said suddenly, holding up a gingerbread man with a buzz cut. “This one looks like Isaac!”

I chuckled, unable to help myself. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because Isaac always has that haircut,” Alex said, mimicking Isaac’s serious expression before laughing at his own joke.

I didn’t comment further, but I couldn’t help the faint smile that lingered on my face.

A few moments passed, and Alex looked up from his cookie.

“Where’s Isaac, anyway?” Alex asks, still holding the gingerbread man with the buzz cut.

“Why isn’t he here with us?” His tone is casual, but I can tell he’s genuinely curious.

I sigh, putting down the cookie I’ve been decorating. “He’s at his stupid date with Katie,” I reply without thinking.

My voice is flat, but my face betrays me, I can feel my expression souring.

Alex freezes for a second, then his eyes widen, and a massive grin spreads across his face.

“You’re jealous!” he exclaims, practically bouncing in place.

“No?! I’m not,” I say immediately, looking at him sharply. My denial comes too quickly, and Alex clearly isn’t buying it.

“Yes, you are!” he laughs, pointing at me with the gingerbread man.

“I’m not ,” I insist, shaking my head. “Besides, I’m seeing someone too.”

That stops him mid-laugh. He tilts his head, curious. “Wait, so… Isaac’s with someone else, and you’re talking to someone else?”

I nod, trying to seem nonchalant, though his question stings more than I’d like to admit.

Alex bursts out laughing, nearly dropping the cookie. “Just get together already! There’s no need for all that!” he says between laughs, his voice full of teasing.

I scowl at him. “It’s not like that, Alex.”

“Yes, it is!” he shoots back, still laughing.

“It’s not ,” I insist firmly, my tone sharper now.

Alex finally calms down but still has that infuriating smirk on his face.

“You’re both just being dumb . I don’t care if Isaac’s with someone else. You guys are supposed to be together. You even have a similar tattoo on the exam same spot, you think I didn’t notice?” he says proudly.

“Anyways, you should’ve taken the chance when you had it. No offense, but Isaac is way out of your league.”

I frown, turning back to the cookies to avoid his gaze. “Hey?! I’m handsome too, but as I said, it’s not that simple. Also, whose side are you on?!?!” I ask annoyed while looking at him.

Alex stops laughing at my tone, but I can feel him watching me.

I don’t tell him why it’s not simple—why it’ll never be simple.

I don’t tell him about the folder, the money, the drugs, or everything else I learned about Isaac.

I don’t want to ruin the way Alex sees him. He doesn’t need to know about that mess.

Before I can say anything else, the front door opens.

I look up just in time to see Isaac walking in with Katie by his side, her arm looped around his. She’s giggling about something, and he looks… relaxed, maybe even happy.

Alex freezes, still holding the gingerbread man that looks like Isaac.

Katie stops mid-laugh when she notices us staring.

Isaac looks at me directly, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach twist.

Nobody says a word.

We all just stand there, caught in the heavy silence.

My hands froze mid-roll.

Alex noticed him before I could react, his face lighting up instantly.

“Isaac!” he shouted, practically leaping out of his chair.

I barely had time to register what was happening before Alex ran to him, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug.

Isaac chuckled softly, patting Alex on the back. “Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice low and warm. He hugged him back without hesitation, and I could see the familiar ease between them.

But my stomach twisted. I looked away, pretending to focus on the dough.

Behind Isaac, Katie stepped into the house, grinning like she’d just walked into her favorite place.

“Hi, Dean!” she said cheerfully, waving like we were best friends.

I shot her a sideways glance, forcing a small smile.

“Katie.”

My voice came out calm, almost disinterested, but the way her smile faltered for a split second told me she caught the undertone.

Isaac’s eyes darted between us briefly before he cleared his throat.

He looked uncomfortable. I could tell he hadn’t expected to find us here.

“So…” he started, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He glanced at the cookies on the counter. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a bakery.”

“Didn’t know you’d be walking in at all,” I muttered under my breath, not looking at him.

Isaac ignored me.

Instead, he turned to Katie and touched her arm lightly. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said casually.

Katie’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “Okay!” she chirped, and Isaac leaned in, giving her a quick kiss.

On the lips.

I didn’t mean to look, but my eyes caught the moment anyway.

The way her face flushed as she smiled at him was like watching some bad rom-com unfold in real life.

I went back to rolling the dough, pressing it harder than I needed to.

“Have fun,” I said flatly, not looking up.

Katie beamed. “Thanks, Dean!”

Isaac hesitated for a second, glancing at me as if he wanted to say something.

I kept my eyes on the dough, refusing to meet his gaze.

After a moment, I heard their footsteps heading up the stairs.

The scent of cinnamon wasn’t so sweet anymore.

Isaac

Katie closes the door behind her and steps closer with confidence, her eyes locked on mine.

She’s beautiful. Ginger hair falling over her shoulders, a gaze full of determination, and movements that scream she knows exactly what she wants.

She grabs my neck and gently pushes me against the wall.

“Isaac…” she whispers, and my name on her lips sounds so natural, as if we’ve always been here, in this moment.

I let her touch me, let her gaze pull me in, but inside… emptiness.

I don’t know why I came here, why I let her pull me into this.

Maybe it’s because I want to feel something, anything other than what’s been haunting me.

“You’re so quiet,” Katie says, her tone playful. “I can’t tell if I’m exciting you or boring you.”

I try to smile, to give her something back, but before I can answer, she says:

“You know, Dean was right about you. You’re so… mysterious. Nobody ever knows what you’re thinking.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. His name alone is enough to undo me.

Every thought of him and Lucas floods back into my mind like a wave. The two of them together, laughing, his smile when he looks at Lucas… It’s unbearable.

Katie keeps talking, but I can’t hear her anymore. I can’t think.

All I feel is the weight of the emptiness inside me and the desperate need to fill it with something, anything.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss her.

My lips crash onto hers abruptly, impulsively.

My hands rise to her waist and pull her closer, as if I can erase every thought, every pain, with this kiss.

She’s startled at first, but soon she responds, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her kiss is passionate, warm, but inside me… nothing.

It’s like kissing a wall, like trying to light a fire with wet wood.

I pull back abruptly, my hands still on her, but my head spinning.

I can’t do this. It’s not fair—to her or to me.

Katie looks at me, confused. “Isaac? What’s wrong?”

I lower my gaze, unable to meet hers. “I’m sorry… I just… I can’t do this.”

“Why?” Her voice is soft, but full of curiosity. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, it’s not you.” I take a step back, trying to catch my breath.

“You’re amazing, Katie. I just… I’m not here. Not really.”

Her silence weighs heavy on me, and for a moment, I’m scared she’ll get angry or hurt.

But she just nods slowly, as if she understands more than I’m saying.

“When you’re ready,” she says finally, “you know where to find me.”

She leaves me alone in the corner, and she goes to grab her bag.

My head is a mess, but one thing is clear: I can’t escape Dean, no matter how hard I try.

The door closes behind us with a sound that echoes in my head more than it should. Katie stands in front of me and, before we leave, she kisses me.

A simple kiss, a farewell, as if to say “see you.” But I can’t respond.

Because my eyes have already locked elsewhere.

At the end of the hallway, Dean.

He’s standing there, his gaze empty, almost indifferent, as if I weren’t even there. He enters his room without a word, without even a moment’s hesitation.

My heart aches, and my stomach tightens so much that I can hardly breathe.

“Isaac, are you okay? Shall we go?” Katie asks.

I don’t answer. I give a nod and follow her mechanically out of the house.

The road to her place is silent.

I don’t even remember what she was saying to me, if she was speaking at all. My mind is completely stuck on that empty stare. That indifference that hurt me more than any honest anger or sadness ever could.

When I drop her off at her house, I whisper something like “good night” and leave as quickly as I can. I can’t take it anymore.

When I get back home, Alex is already sleeping on the couch. I only hear his quiet breathing. I want to curl up somewhere, to fall apart without anyone seeing me.

But then, I hear footsteps behind me.

I turn around and see Dean. He’s standing there, hesitant, his gaze piercing through me as if trying to figure out what’s hidden inside me.

“When I told you I wasn’t sure if I could keep living with you…” he starts.

His voice is steady, but his words feel like blades cutting through my skin.

“I meant it. I’m looking for a place to move out. I’m packing my things so I’ll be ready to leave as soon as I find something.”

Silence.

Each of his words is a blow to my chest, every syllable leaves a void I can’t fill.

I want to shout, stop him, beg him not to leave.

But I don’t. I can’t. Because deep inside, I know that maybe this is the best thing for him. For me.

But I don’t feel relief. I don’t feel any comfort.

The only thing I feel is desperation.

I want to hold him, tell him that the house could never be the same without him, but I suppress myself. I’m trapped in this silence, in this refusal to show how much this is destroying me.

Dean doesn’t say anything else. He looks at me for a moment longer, as if waiting for something, then turns and walks away.

I stand there, motionless, feeling my breath catch, my legs trembling. The room seems to shrink around me.

I don’t cry, but the pain inside me is so intense that I feel like I’m breaking into a thousand pieces. And for the first time, I feel like I might never be able to get over him.

38. Hit Me All You Want

Dean

“Come in, leave your shoes by the door,” Lucas said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his cat wasn’t jumping on the table.

I laughed and left my shoes next to me, trying to act casual. I didn’t know why, but my stomach always felt tight when I was alone with him.

The kitchen smelled like popcorn, and the small living room was all set up for “movie night” – the coffee table covered in snacks, and a bottle of red wine already open…

I’m scared.

I don’t know if I should make the same mistake again, but with wine this time.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” I asked, glancing at his collection of films.

“Something light,” he said with a nod toward the couch. “Get comfortable. I’ll grab the glasses for the wine.”

I sat down, letting my body sink into the soft cushions. Being there, in such an intimate setting, made me feel… strange.

Lucas returned, holding two glasses. “Can I ask you something?” he said, pouring the wine and handing me one of the glasses.

“Of course.”

“Why did you agree to come over tonight?”

His question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know… I just didn’t expect you to… spend your evening here with me.”

“I don’t know… you want me to leave?” I said, laughing.

“No, of course not. We are trying things, after all.”

Half An Hour Later

The movie was playing, but neither of us was really paying attention.

The popcorn was almost gone, and the wine had relaxed us both.

Lucas was sitting next to me, one leg tucked up on the couch.

At some point, I noticed him looking at me. I turned my head toward him and saw his expression, deep, intense, but warm at the same time.

“What?” I asked, smiling nervously.

“Nothing,” he replied softly, but he didn’t look away.

He leaned in slightly. His face was now just inches from mine.

My stomach tightened, and I felt my blood rush to my head.

His lips suddenly met mine.

At first, I froze. It was soft, hesitant. Then it grew more confident, more certain. Somewhere between confusion and tension, his hands moved to my shoulders, pulling me closer.

I felt my body responding, despite the voice in my head telling me that maybe this was wrong.

But… was it?

I placed my hands on his waist, pulling him closer.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, he looked at me for a moment, and his gaze made me feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

“Dean…” he whispered.

My phone started ringing, breaking the moment.

At first, I ignored it, but it didn’t stop.

“Maybe you should answer that,” Lucas said, pulling back slightly.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

It was Aria.

“Hey, Aria,” I said, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice.

“Dean, I know this isn’t the best time, but I need something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s one of the books that I gave you like a month ago. It’s in your room, on the bookshelf. I need it tonight. The big blue one, remember? Please, can you bring it to me?”

I glanced at Lucas, who was watching me without saying anything. I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t say no to her.

“Alright. I’ll be there soon.”

I hung up the phone and stood up from the couch.

“I’m sorry, Lucas. I have to go for a bit. I’ll come back, I promise.”

He smiled, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll wait for you.”

I knew I was leaving at a difficult moment, but I didn’t have a choice.

The air was cold, and my footsteps echoed steadily on the sidewalk as I walked toward the house. Each step took me farther away from Lucas, and I couldn’t help but feel kind of disappointed.

I didn’t really want to leave.

During our kiss, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time, the faint hope that maybe, just maybe , I could forget Isaac if I kept going like this.

Lucas was different. He had a calmness, a stability Isaac never had.

With Lucas, there weren’t the ups and downs, the dramas, or the constant complications.

At least not this time.

Maybe he changed.

Maybe with him, I could finally find a little peace.

But I couldn’t hurt Aria.

I loved her too much to let her think I’d put her second. She had always been there for me. When I fell, she was my rock. And if she needed something as simple as a book, I couldn’t say no.

I was getting close to the house when something made me stop abruptly.

In the darkness, I could make out a figure standing near the entrance.

I couldn’t see clearly, but my body froze instinctively.

I crouched behind a bush near the parking lot.

I glanced toward the lot, Isaac’s car wasn’t there.

Right.

He said something about a meeting, to discuss something about one of his houses.

Of course I overheard that, when he spoke on the phone with the guy who was in charge of the meeting.

That was, at least, somewhat reassuring. He wasn’t home.

I turned back to the figure. The streetlights cast a faint glow over him, and then I recognized him.

Sergei.

Oh Dear God.

My blood ran cold.

What the hell was he doing here?

Again?

I tried to keep calm, to figure out what was happening. He was alone, but he was speaking on the phone. I needed to get closer to hear him.

Carefully, I crept closer, keeping myself hidden in the shadows. His voice was deep, filled with a cold determination that sent chills down my spine.

“Yes, I’m here now,” he said, his voice was low but just loud enough for me to hear. “He hasn’t come back yet. That dude I was telling you about. Perfect timing to finish this.”

My heart sank.

What the fuck?

“Doesn’t matter who he is. Don’t worry about it. He’s done too much. It’s time he pays for it. He won’t see it coming.”

My mind was racing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Sergei was waiting here just to hurt Isaac again?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon. It’s nothing” Sergei continued. “As soon as he gets back, I hit him. I don’t care how. From where I’m standing, he can’t escape. I’ll finish him off tonight. Him and all his messes…”

Fuck me.

My hands were trembling. A mix of fear and anger was bubbling up inside me.

I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit there and listen.

Without thinking any further, I stepped out of my hiding spot.

“Can I help you?”

Sergei turned toward me, his eyes wide with surprise, but quickly, his expression became cold and unreadable.

“And who the fuck are you?” he said calmly, as if my presence didn’t faze him at all.

“This doesn’t concern you.” he says and hangs up the phone.

“Doesn’t concern me?” I tilt my head, taking a step closer to him. “You’re talking about him. So it does concern me. What’s your little plan?”

Sergei didn’t answer immediately. He slipped his hands into his pockets, and looked at me.

“Go home, kid,” he said in an icy tone, his voice dripping with menace. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I didn’t back down.

Everything inside me was boiling over, my blood rushing hot through my veins.

I didn’t care how dangerous Sergei was.

I couldn’t let him do this to Isaac.

As much as I wanted to forget him, the thought of something happening to him made me lose all composure.

And so, I stood there in front of him, my body tense, ready to face him head-on.

I grabbed Sergei by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

The force of it echoed, but he just laughed.

It was as if he wasn’t even bothered, like he was pitying me for the mess I was about to find myself in.

“You think this is going to stop me?” Sergei sneered.

I gritted my teeth, keeping my grip tight. I wasn’t letting him go. Not yet.

“Why do you keep bothering him?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage.

Sergei smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You don’t get it, do you?” He chuckled. “I don’t know who the fuck are you, but this isn’t about you. It’s about him. Isaac is going to pay for everything he’s done. You can’t stop it.”

My heart was racing, my chest tight with anger. I leaned in, pressing him harder against the wall.

“You dare touch him… You so much as lay a finger on h—”

“Or what?” He just laughed again.

But this time, it wasn’t a laugh of amusement. “I see… Isaac got himself a boyfriend. How adorable.”

It was a laugh of mockery, like he knew something I didn’t, and he was enjoying every second of it.

“You can’t protect him, baby,” Sergei mocked, his voice smooth and condescending. “You can’t even protect yourself.”

“What do you even want with Isaac?”

He just looks at me for a moment, his eyes cold and calculating.

And then, with a sudden move, he grabs me by the throat, slamming me into the wall.

“You think you’re so tough, don’t you, kid? Asking, and asking.” Sergei sneers, tightening his grip.

He smiles. “I know you know where Isaac is. I know you know exactly why he’s hiding. You also know about the drugs, the money… everything he’s been hiding. So, tell me this, and I will leave you alone. For now at least. Where is Isaac now?”

I refuse to give in.

I won’t betray Isaac.

I know too much to give Sergei anything.

I grit my teeth.

“You won’t get anything from me,” I spit out. “Not a word.”

Sergei chuckles, before letting go of my throat and pushing me back into the wall.

“I don’t need words, kid. I’ll get the information out of you one way or another.”

I smile, and without thinking, I spit right on his face. “Try me.”

He wipes his face, and looks at me dead in the eyes.

Suddenly, the pain comes. It’s so sharp, so fast, I can’t process it right away. Sergei hits me, right in the face.

My breath catches in my throat, and the pain floods through my body. My knees buckle, but I fight to stay upright.

“I told you,” I hiss through gritted teeth, “I won’t tell you anything. You can hit me all you want. It won’t change anything.”

Sergei’s face twists into a snarl.

He doesn’t believe me. I can see the anger in his eyes as he swings his fist at my face.

The hit is hard enough to make my vision blur, but I still manage to keep my feet.

I wipe the blood from my nose with the back of my hand.

He hits me again, on the other side this time.

It fucking hurt. But still, I say nothing.

Sergei’s patience runs out, and he lunges for me, grabbing me by the shoulders and shoving me to the ground.

I stumble. Fall onto something sharp-glass.

Jesus Christ. The broken mirror I never actually threw out.

I can feel it slicing through my skin, and the pain that follows is almost too much to bear.

Blood starts to pour from my side, and I hear Sergei swear under his breath.

He takes a step back, panic flickering across his face as he sees what he’s done.

I can’t breathe for a moment, the pain overwhelming me, but I force myself to stay conscious.

“Fucking hell,” Sergei looks like he’s about to bolt, and then-out of nowhere-he runs toward the street.

Without checking. Just trying to run away from me.

A car slams into him with force.

My eyes go wide open.

Sergei’s body is thrown across the road like a ragdoll.

I can’t process it.

Everything is happening so fast.

I try to move, to get up, but the world is spinning around me. My vision starts to blur, and I know I need help.

I need to get out of here. But they can’t see me.

With shaking hands, I grab my phone from my pocket and call Luca’s number.

“Lucas, it’s me,” I rasp, trying to keep my voice steady. “I need you to come get me. Now.”

His voice comes through the phone, concerned.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’ll explain later,” I say quickly, trying to push through the dizziness in my head. “Just come here, please. Hurry. I’m in pain.”

I can feel myself starting to lose grip on reality.

The pain in my side is unbearable, but I have to stay focused.

I know I need to hang on just a little longer. “Just hurry, Lucas,” I say again, my words slurred. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

I’m standing there, the blood from my side still dripping down. I don’t know what to think, what to do. I just want to stay awake. I need to stay awake.

39. Can’t Let Isaac Know

Dean

The pain is everywhere, my body feels like it’s on fire.

The wound on my side continues to bleed, and my inability to breathe deeply makes me feel like I’m losing consciousness.

Lucas’s car is speeding, and his breath pulls me into this anxiety I can’t escape.

“What the hell happened, Dean? Are you okay?” Lucas’s voice is full of panic, but he’s trying to keep it together as he drives.

The pain is unbearable, and speaking is almost impossible. I finally manage to get some words out. “I tripped… I fell on some glass… cut myself… on my side…”

Lucas’s silence crushes me, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out if he should panic or stay calm. “Are you sure it’s okay? The blood… Dean it’s a lot.”

“I know that’s why we are going to the hospital!” I say with difficulty, even though my body is overwhelmed with pain and weakness.

Lucas doesn’t say anything for a while, and I feel my breathing getting heavier with each passing second. “And your face? It doesn’t look good from here.”

“My face… it’s fine,” I say quickly, trying to dismiss his concern.

I don’t want to talk about the rest, I just want us to get there as quickly as possible. “I’ll tell you everything later, okay?”

Lucas stays quiet for a moment, and I feel him speeding up. “Dean, did you call your roommate? You need to inform him, he has to know what happened! In case he’s looking for you.”

His words send a chill down my spine, and my heart pounds harder.

I don’t want Isaac to know, I don’t want to put him in that position.

“No!” I yell, my voice full of desperation. “I don’t want him to know anything, please, don’t tell him anything.”

Lucas stays silent for a moment, as if trying to understand, and I feel the pain stealing my breath. “But… Dean, he needs to know! He has to, and we need to go to the hospital.”

“No!” I yell again, and this time my voice cracks, ready to break. “If he finds out, he’ll worry… I don’t want to upset him.”

Lucas doesn’t answer immediately. He seems to be processing everything, and I feel him thinking it through.

The silence lingers for a few seconds, but then he says, “Alright, I get it… But we have to go to the hospital, that’s the only important thing right now.”

His voice is steady and calm, and while I feel weakness taking over my body, I agree. “Yeah… I know.”

The engine of the car keeps racing while my heart feels heavier and my mind becomes more foggy. I can’t think of anything else but getting there.

…

The hospital room is white, with bright light shining down on me. The pain in my body is unbearable, and the feeling of weakness grows as the minutes pass.

The doctor has already started examining me, trying to assess the severity of the injuries. Her voice is professional, but I can see the concern in her eyes.

“The wound on your side is serious, you’ll need stitches to close it properly,” she explains, lifting my shirt to see the injury. “The cut is pretty deep, and it requires attention.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at her watch. “To monitor the situation, you’ll need to stay the night here. We’ll need to keep a close eye on everything.”

I exhale and nod. I don’t have the strength to say much, the pain is draining me.

My eyes feel heavy and blurry from blood loss and exhaustion.

Then, something comes to mind. A thought I hadn’t considered earlier, but now it overwhelms me.

“Wait,” I say with difficulty, my mouth dry. “Did someone named Sergei come here?”

The doctor looks at me for a moment, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, someone by that name came earlier.”

Something in my chest thumps loudly, but I don’t let it show. I just try to keep my voice steady.

“He’s…a friend of mine,” I say, forcing the words out. “How is he?”

The doctor seems to think for a moment, and then the response she gives makes my worry intensify.

“I can’t give you information about other patients,” she says in a calm but firm tone.

My concern grows, but I try not to show it.

“Please, just something… anything,” I say, my voice filled with pleading. “Is it serious? Will he be alright?”

The doctor looks at the site of my injury for a few seconds, as if deep in thought, before speaking again.

“The wound was serious…” she finally says, her voice harder now. “It’s likely…his memory will probably never return. I’m sorry.”

Those words cut through me like a knife.

My heart tightens in my chest, and for a moment, my mind stops processing everything around me.

But then, something strange happens.

The tension in my body eases.

A wave of relief washes over me.

The weight in my chest lifts, and I feel lighter, almost free.

He’s alive. But, as the doctor said, he probably won’t even remember who Isaac is.

It’s…almost as if a burden has been lifted…

Isaac

It was late at night when I finally realized that Dean probably wouldn’t be coming home.

I wasn’t worried, though.

I just thought he was pissed and stayed over at Lucas’s to get back at me or something.

I threw some food in the plate, ate it fast and went to bed.

The next morning - Isaac

I woke up to the constant ringing of my phone.

A number I didn’t recognize was calling. Groggy and annoyed, I answered it, “Who is this?”

It was Katie.

But the number wasn’t hers.

“Hey, Isaac, do you know where Dean is?” she asked, and I felt my stomach drop.

I was instantly on edge. “Why? Why are you asking?”

“Because he hasn’t shown up for work,” she said, her voice tinged with worry. “I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering. I’m really getting worried here.”

Fuck.

I could feel the panic creeping up on me.

Dean would never just leave work like that without a reason.

“I have no idea where he is,” I said, trying to hide the concern in my voice, but I could feel the dread settling in.

I hung up the phone and went straight to the bathroom to get ready.

My mind was racing as I tried to think of where Dean could be.

I called him again, but he didn’t pick up.

I didn’t have his friends’ numbers, and I didn’t know where Lucas lived.

I was stuck.

I quickly left the house and drove to the restaurant where him and Katie worked.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and as I approached the counter, I asked Katie nervously, “When did you see him last?”

She looked up from the register, her tone indifferent. “Last time I saw him was at your place,” she said. “After that, the only thing I know is that he went out with Lucas.”

I looked down, trying to calm myself down.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

Dean was probably just with Lucas, and didn’t want to be bothered.

I sighed, feeling stupid for all the anxiety. “Sorry to bother you, Katie,” I said. “I was just worried.”

I kissed her on the cheek and left the shop, trying to shake off the feeling of unease.

Still, something didn’t feel right.

The Same Morning - Dean

I can barely lift myself from the bed, but Lucas is there, helping me up, steadying me as I stand.

My body aches with every movement, the pain is a constant reminder of what happened.

But I push through it. I can’t let it show.

As we make our way to Lucas’s car, I hesitate.

I want to ask him, but I don’t know how to word it without sounding weak or needy.

Finally, I take a deep breath and say, “Lucas… would it be okay if I stayed with you tonight? Just for today…”

He looks at me, brows furrowing. “You’re sure? I mean, Isaac should know what happened. He’s your roommate, Dean.”

I shake my head, my throat tight.

“Exactly. Roommate. Not boyfriend. I don’t have to explain myself.”

I can’t do it. I can’t let Isaac know.

He already has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need to carry the weight of my mess, too.

“I… I think it’s better if he doesn’t know,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to burden him, he’s already got so much going on in his life…”

Lucas doesn’t argue, even though I can see the doubt in his eyes.

He just nods, understanding. “Alright. If you say so. But I’m still gonna make sure you’re alright. And if you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

We get to his place, and as we walk inside, I can’t help but feel a small sense of relief.

I don’t have to deal with Isaac’s questions, at least not yet.

Lucas takes care of me, making sure I’m comfortable on the couch, bringing me water, checking the injury on my side.

He’s patient, like he always is, and I appreciate it more than I can express.

But deep down, I know that I can’t keep hiding this from Isaac.

I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when it’s not.

But for now, I’ll let myself rest. I’ll let myself forget about it, just for today.

40. -Why, Dean?-

Isaac

The door creaked open, and I sat up instantly, the moment he stepped inside.

Dean.

He looked… hesitant.

Off.

My stomach twisted as I watched his every move, every little detail.

Something wasn’t right.

“Where the hell were you?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’ve been worried sick!”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me. He just shuffled in, avoiding my gaze entirely.

That wasn’t like him. My chest tightened.

I pushed myself off the couch and followed him further into the room.

“Dean, I’m talking to you!” I snapped, my voice rising. He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

My panic grew with every second of silence.

When I got closer, I finally saw it.

The cuts, the bruises. His face.

The tightness in his jaw. The way he moved, like he was in pain.

My heart was pounding now.

Then I noticed it—the wristband.

A fucking hospital wristband.

My stomach dropped.

“You were at the hospital?” I asked, grabbing his wrist before I could stop myself.

He flinched, jerking it back so fast it was like I burned him.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, his tone cold, distant.

Fine? Fine?! He didn’t look fine at all.

My head was spinning. My hands trembled as I looked at him more closely.

The way he held himself. The way he was moving, stiff and slow.

He was hiding something, I could see it plain as day. And then I noticed it.

The stain.

A dark spot seeping through his shirt, barely hidden by the jacket he was clutching tightly around himself.

“Who did this to you?” I asked, my voice broken. My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t breathe.

He shook his head, brushing it off. “No one. I just… fell.”

Bullshit.

That was absolute bullshit.

My heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

“You’re lying,” I said, my voice rising. “You’re fucking lying to my face right now. Don’t you dare tell me you’re fine when I can see you’re fucking not. Who the hell did this to you, Dean?! Tell me!”

I was yelling now, but I didn’t care.

I couldn’t.

The thought of someone hurting him, of him being in danger, of him being hurt like this, it was too much. My hands were shaking, my entire body was shaking.

He looked away, his jaw tight, refusing to answer.

“Dean,” I said again, my voice breaking this time.

“Please. Just tell me what’s going on. I can’t—” I stopped, clenching my fists.

“I can’t just stand here and pretend everything’s okay when it’s not. When you’re clearly not.”

But he just stood there, silent, avoiding my gaze like I wasn’t even there. Like none of this mattered. And it was killing me.

I stared at him, my chest heaving, my fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

Something was bubbling under the surface-something dark.

Something I didn’t want to acknowledge. But I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The thought crept in, uninvited, unwelcome.

“It was Sergei, wasn’t it?” I asked, my voice cold, steady. Too steady.

He didn’t respond. Not even a twitch. That was all the confirmation I needed.

That son of a bitch is so dead.

I felt like I was suffocating, like I couldn’t breathe. My entire body trembled as the fury consumed me.

“That bastard,” I hissed, my voice rising with every word. “That worthless piece of shit!”

I spun toward the door, my mind made up in an instant. “I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I’m going to fucking kill him!” The words exploded out of me, each one sharper, angrier than the last.

“Isaac, stop!” Dean’s voice cut through my rage, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t even look back at him.

My hand was already reaching for the doorknob.

“Don’t you dare try to stop me,” I snapped, my voice shaking. “I’m not going to let him get away with this.”

A hand grabbed my wrist, firm and unrelenting. I froze, spinning around to see Dean, pale and unsteady, gripping me with every ounce of strength he had left.

“Let me go,” I said, yanking at my arm. But his hold didn’t falter.

“Isaac,” “Sergei doesn’t even remember your name.”

The words hit me like a freight train. My anger wavered, giving way to confusion. I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat.

“Eh? what are you talking about?”

Dean exhaled shakily, releasing my wrist. “He was hit by a car,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Right after everything that…happened between me and him. The nurse said his injuries were severe. She doesn’t think his memory will ever come back.”

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “He… doesn’t remember? What the fuck even happened?!”

Dean nodded slowly, leaning back against the wall as if standing was too much effort. “He doesn’t even know who I am anymore. Or you. It’s over, Isaac. He’s gone. And he’s not coming back.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of the rage that had been driving me moments ago dissipated, replaced by something else.

Something I couldn’t name.

I didn’t know what to say.

I didn’t even know what to feel.

All I knew was that Dean was standing there, battered and bruised, looking like he could collapse at any second.

And Sergei… Sergei was responsible.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in, my thoughts racing so fast they became a blur. My hands trembled as I looked at him—at the bruises on his face, at the way he winced when he moved.

“What the hell were you thinking?” My voice cracked as I spoke, anger and desperation mixing into something I couldn’t control.

“Why would you do this, Dean? Why would you put yourself in danger like that? Do you have any idea how reckless this was?”

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, silent, avoiding my eyes, like he couldn’t even bring himself to face me. That silence only made it worse.

“Answer me!” I shouted, my voice breaking completely. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that man is? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you? You could’ve—”

I stopped myself, my throat tightening.

I couldn’t even say it.

I stepped closer, my eyes scanning him again, taking in every bruise, every cut.

I couldn’t stop myself. My hand reached out, and I grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking it up before he could stop me.

There it was.

The place where we had a -matching tattoo

as he called it, a bond that had felt so dumb yet so unbreakable, so permanent, was now marred. A long, jagged line of stitches ran through it, cruelly slicing it apart.

My heart shattered. I felt it, like a physical pain in my chest.

“Why, Dean?” My voice was barely a whisper now, hoarse and broken. “Why would you do this to yourself? Why would you let it get this far? Was it because of me?”

He tried to speak, to defend himself, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you like this?” I demanded, my voice rising again. “To know that you got hurt—because of me? Because of something I dragged you into? How could you—”

I cut myself off, taking a step back, running a hand through my hair, trying to ground myself.

It didn’t work. The image of his battered body, of the scar that now cut through our shared tattoo, was burned into my mind.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, my voice breaking again. “You didn’t have to risk your life, Dean. You didn’t have to get hurt like this. You could’ve walked away. Why didn’t you fucking walk away? Why?”

He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

He just stood there, silent and unsteady, and it killed me. Every second of his silence felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

“Do you even realize how much it would’ve destroyed me if you didn’t come back? If I lost you like this?”

I stared at him, waiting, hoping for something, an answer, an explanation, anything.

But all I got was silence. And in that silence, all I could feel was the crushing weight of everything I couldn’t fix.

I let out a long, shaky breath, trying desperately to calm myself, but the weight of everything was suffocating. My chest ached, my mind racing with everything I’d just seen, everything I’d just heard.

“You need to leave,” I said finally, my voice low but firm.

I avoided his gaze, my heart clenching as I forced the words out. “You were right. This time though… I’m the one telling you to go.”

I paused, swallowing hard, trying to steady my voice. “I didn’t realize how dangerous this really was, Dean. And I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened—what else might’ve happened.” My voice cracked slightly, but I pushed through it. “You need to move out. Far away from h—”

“Enough!” he snapped, cutting me off before I could finish.

I blinked, startled, as he suddenly shouted, his voice echoing in the room.

“I’m not going anywhere !” he yelled, his face twisting with frustration and anger. “Do you hear me, Isaac? I’m not leaving! I got hurt because of me , not you. Me ! I’m the one who chose to stay in your life. I’m the one who put myself in this position. It’s my fault, not yours!”

I stood frozen, stunned by his outburst. He was breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of his emotions.

“Stop blaming yourself for everything!” he continued, his voice shaking. “Do you think the world’s chaos is your responsibility? Do you think every awful thing that happens is somehow on you? It’s not! I made my choice, Isaac. I chose to get involved. I chose to stay there and get hurt. So stop trying to push me away like it’ll fix anything!”

His words hit me like a blow to the chest. I stared at him, my mind spinning, trying to process everything he’d just said.

“I can’t actually believe you’re blaming yourself right now. This is fucking sick.” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re blaming yourself for something you didn’t have to be a part of. For something you didn’t deserve.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I’m blaming myself because it was my choice. You don’t get to take that away from me.”

The anger in his voice made my blood boil, but not because I was mad at him. I was mad at myself, at the fact that he thought he had to bear this, that he thought this was his burden to carry.

I took a step closer, my fists clenching at my sides. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to stand here and let you do this to yourself,” I said, my voice rising. “You shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes, Dean! You shouldn’t have to carry this—”

“I’m not carrying anything!” he interrupted, his voice raw and unrelenting. “I’m staying because I care about you, Isaac. Because you freaking matter to me. And I’m not going to let you push me away just because you can’t handle the fact that someone actually gives a damn about you!”

His words left me speechless.

My throat tightened, my anger melting into something else entirely, something I couldn’t even begin to describe.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My mind was too jumbled, my emotions too overwhelming to form a coherent thought. All I could do was stand there, staring at him, my chest heaving as I tried to make sense of it all.

There is no way this is actually happening…

41. -You Know You Love It-

A Few Hours Later - Dean

I was sitting on the couch, holding a half-used piece of gauze in my hand.

My body felt heavy, every muscle sore from the pain and tension of the day.

Before I could drown in my thoughts again, I heard Isaac’s footsteps approaching.

His figure appeared in the corner of my eye, and without saying a word, he leaned slightly forward.

“Need some help?” he asked gently, his voice softer than usual.

I glanced at him for a moment, trying to decipher his expression.

Guilt? Concern? Pity, maybe? It was hard to tell. I nodded faintly, and he sat down next to me on the couch.

Without another word, he placed gauze, disinfectants, and everything else needed to clean my wounds in front of me.

His presence was so strong it made the room feel smaller.

“Lift your shirt a bit,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper, as if afraid he’d scare me off.

I obeyed, pulling my shirt up just enough to expose my ribs and the stitches that had become a permanent reminder of what I’d endured.

I felt him freeze for a moment, and without looking, I knew his eyes were locked on my wounds.

His breathing changed, becoming slightly heavier. When I turned to look at him, his face held an expression I couldn’t quite read.

Was he angry? Upset? Something inside him seemed to break, and I wasn’t happy about it.

His fingers touched my skin with a gentleness I hadn’t expected. It was almost too careful, like he was afraid the slightest pressure might shatter me.

The disinfectant stung, but the way he was treating me made the pain almost nonexistent.

“You’re so careful,” I muttered softly, letting out a small laugh. “Like you think I’m going to break.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say anything.

His hands kept moving with the same tenderness, each motion deliberate, calculated.

When he finished with my ribs, I felt him shift. He moved closer, bringing his hands to my face.

I felt his breath against my skin, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“You’ve got a nasty scratch here,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against my cheek.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, and our eyes locked.

There was no distance between us, the air around us was charged, heavy.

His stare was intense, like he was searching for something within me. And I… I couldn’t do anything but stare back.

He leaned in slightly closer, his lips so near I could almost feel their warmth.

His hand stopped, resting lightly against my cheek.

“Do you think Lucas will get jealous that I’m the one taking care of you instead of him?” he asked, his voice tentative but laced with something deeper.

His question hit me like a wave. I didn’t know what to say. I shook my head slightly, trying to find words.

“He’ll be fine,” I finally said, my voice low, almost a whisper.

The awkwardness between us was palpable.

Isaac looked at me for a moment longer, as if waiting for something—a word, a gesture.

And I just sat there, frozen, unsure how this moment was supposed to end.

After a few minutes of silence, the tension between us had started to settle, but the weight of it still lingered. Isaac had leaned back slightly, sitting on the couch next to me, but I could feel his unease.

“Why did you do it?” he suddenly asked, his voice hesitant. “Why did you risk your life like that?”

The question hit me like a punch to the gut. I didn’t have an answer. At least, not one that wouldn’t sound ridiculous or meaningless.

I looked at him, but his gaze was fixed on his hands. He had intertwined his fingers, nervously fidgeting with the skin.

“What did you expect me to do?” I finally shot back, letting out a sigh. “Let him come after you and do something much worse than what happened now?”

His silence was deafening. He didn’t lift his eyes from his hands for even a moment.

His face was tense, but beneath his calm exterior, I could see the turmoil, the anger he was holding back. I couldn’t tell if it was directed at me or himself.

“Isaac,” I said softly, trying to get his attention. “Was there anyone else who knew about your dealings with Sergei?”

His head tilted slightly, and his eyes finally met mine.

“No,” he said abruptly. “No one else knew.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed, needing to be certain.

“I’m sure.” His voice was curt, almost defensive.

“If anyone else knew, he would’ve been in deeper trouble. If he mentioned my name, he would be in a much worse position than he already is.”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was telling me the whole truth. There was a conviction in his voice, but the way he avoided my gaze made me question him.

“Did the others… know? Not about you, but about the situation in general?”

“Maybe,” he muttered, almost as if he didn’t want to admit it. “They knew about the situation. But they didn’t know who Sergei was talking about. It was only between me and him strictly. Thank God.”

The silence that followed was heavy, like an invisible weight had fallen over us. I stayed there, watching him, seeing the guilt he was trying to hide and the anger simmering beneath the surface. And for a moment, I wondered if this was really over or if it was just the beginning.

I paused for a moment, thinking. Then I looked back at him and asked calmly, “What was really in that file, Isaac?”

He takes a deep breath.

“I was hoping you would finally ask… My mother… she was a partner of Sergei. Not just in her business, but in other, darker things as well. I don’t know if she knew, but he had a way of binding her, getting her involved in things with no way out. When she passed, she left behind a family that needed to be supported. Not because we needed money…not exactly. But because I needed to feel like I was doing something for our lives. To keep what was left of our family from falling apart.”

Isaac raises his gaze and looks at me with a hesitant yet almost hard look, as if trying to convince me.

“Sergei…took advantage of the relationship we had with him. He never told me the whole truth. At first, everything seemed fine. He said I could help my mother with the work she was doing, close some deals, even pay off debts my dad didn’t even know they existed, and I would be able to keep the house. This house. He showed me a way to make money quickly. I only thought about the family, Dean. I didn’t know… what was hiding behind it all. Sergei knew I was weak at that time. He took advantage of that, and I got caught up in his world without realizing it.”

Isaac’s eyes are filled with disappointment as he continues.

His words come out slower, as if he’s saying them for the first time to himself.

“Sergei was always by my side. My mother trusted him. And he saw something in me that he could exploit. When I started to realize what was really going on, it was already too late. The drugs, the money, the deals… they were all part of his game. And I was his pawn.”

Isaac pauses, his voice trembling with anger and disappointment, but he tries to maintain his composure.

“I didn’t do it for me, Dean. I did it because I wanted to do something for the life my mother left behind. But Sergei got me to play his game. And when it came time to escape, I couldn’t. Everything had become too complicated and dangerous. But now, it’s all over. Sergei… is as he is now, and I… I can’t go back. We can’t go back.”

I can’t shake off the shock, but I need to understand.

“Why… why did it all go this far? How did you end up in this mess with Sergei?” he asks.

I hesitate for a moment, my eyes briefly flickering away before he takes a deep breath.

“Well, it started that night. I was outside our place, I wanted to grab a book Aria needed. She’s a friend of mine. And I saw Sergei standing there, all tense, like he was waiting for something. I overheard him talking… He said he was planning to hurt you, Isaac. And, of course, I couldn’t just stand there and let that happen. So, I went up to him, to figure out what the hell was going on.”

“I wasn’t gonna back down. He wanted information, but I wasn’t giving him anything. I wasn’t about to talk about anything, or tell him where were you. That’s when he… well, he punched me a few times, but I still kept my mouth shut. Then, he lost it. Shoved me. I fell right on some glass, messed up my side pretty good.”

I chuckle softly, though it’s clear there’s no real humor in it.

“That glass didn’t exactly appreciate me crashing into it.”

The absurdity of the situation for a moment breaking through the tension. I don’t stop there though. I go on, my expression growing a little more serious.

“Anyway, that’s when everything went south. Sergei, all panicked, ran out into the street without looking—like a damn idiot—and… well, then Lucas showed up and took me to the hospital. That’s it.”

Issac

I sat there, speechless, as Dean spoke.

His voice was calm, almost detached, but his words struck me like a thunderclap.

He was describing how he got beaten, how he took every hit without breaking, just so he wouldn’t get me in trouble.

I felt my throat tighten, and for the first time, I had no idea what to say.

Guilt.

Yes, guilt—it hit me relentlessly, like waves crashing over me, leaving no room to breathe.

All I could think about was how I had put Dean in that position.

If I hadn’t gotten involved with Sergei, if I hadn’t made the choices I made, Dean wouldn’t have had to go through any of this.

But that wasn’t all I felt. There was something else, something deeper, something I didn’t want to admit even to myself. It was like a warmth spreading slowly through my chest, a strange mix of gratitude and admiration. Dean… had done something no one else would have done for me. He put me above his own safety, his own life.

How can someone do that? Put themselves in danger for someone else without even thinking twice?

I didn’t know what to say. And me—the one who always knew how to throw out a comment or play it cool—just sat there, silent.

I looked at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking, what he was feeling. But I didn’t see guilt in his eyes. There was no resentment or anger. Instead, there was a calmness that made me feel even worse.

“Dean…” I started, but my voice broke.

I didn’t know how to continue.

The weight of what he had done for me was crushing me, and at the same time, I felt something pushing me closer to him. Something I couldn’t describe.

I stayed there, staring at him, trying to hold back the thousands of emotions fighting inside me. Guilt. Gratitude. Admiration. And something else I was too afraid to name.

The moment Dean froze, I knew something had clicked in his head. He looked at me, his expression shifting from calm to sudden panic.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t go to work. Did you—did you talk to Katie?”

“Yeah, I talked to her,” I said casually, leaning back against the couch. “She was looking for you yesterday.”

His face fell, and in seconds, he was pacing the room. “I’m screwed. They’re definitely going to fire me. I mean, I didn’t even call her, and now—”

“Dean,” I interrupted, standing up to block his path. He stopped mid-step, looking at me wide-eyed. “Relax.”

“Relax?” he repeated, his voice pitching higher. “I’m about to lose my job, Isaac! How am I supposed to—”

I placed my hands on his shoulders, holding him firmly in place. “Dean,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “You’re not getting fired.”

He blinked at me, still frazzled. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” I said, flashing him a smirk, “I’m Isaac freaking Nabokov. And as long as you know me, you’re not getting fired by anyone.”

The words came out with so much confidence, I couldn’t help but sound like the cockiest person alive.

Dean stared at me for a moment, and then, finally, he laughed.

“So I can get punched because I know you, but I also can’t get fired because of the same reason? You’re so full of yourself, Nabokov” he said, shaking his head, but I caught the way his shoulders relaxed, the panic melting away.

“You know you love it,” I shot back, grinning.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

As the laughter faded, his expression softened, and he hesitated for a moment before asking, “So… how are things with Katie? You two doing okay?”

I paused, my usual quick responses suddenly failing me. “Could’ve been better.”

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes scanning my face like he was trying to read between the lines. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a small nod before turning toward the hallway.

“I’m heading to bed,” he said over his shoulder, his voice subdued but steady.

As he reached the doorway, I called out to him, “Hey, Dean.”

He stopped and looked back at me.

“New Year’s Eve,” I said, leaning against the arm of the couch. “Are you coming to the beach? Everyone’s going to be there.”

He hesitated, like he was weighing his options, but the way his lips twitched gave him away. He already knew his answer.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it” he said with a small nod, his voice soft but sure.

I watched him disappear down the hall, and for a moment, the apartment felt heavier without him in the room.

I stayed there, leaning against the couch, wondering how long I could keep pretending I had everything under control.

42. Silly Crush

Dean

Aria and Liam’s eyes were glued to me, filled with disbelief as soon as I finished telling them about the incident.

We were standing outside a shop full of decorative string lights, and their expressions said far more than their words ever could. It was as if I had just told them I was an alien visiting Earth on vacation.

“Seriously, Dean? That guy hit you so hard you ended up in the freaking hospital, and we’re only finding out now ?” Aria said, her eyes practically shooting daggers at me.

Liam, standing beside her, stayed silent for a moment, then let out a sigh. “I don’t understand how you’re taking this so lightly. I would’ve been scared out of my mind.”

I looked at them and laughed.

Not just a casual laugh—more like the kind you let out when someone’s making a much bigger deal out of something than you are.

“Guys, let it go. I’m fine now. Did you see how I’m carrying these bags?” I swung a small bag full of stuff we’d bought earlier.

Aria crossed her arms and squinted at me, like she was analyzing me under a microscope. “It’s not that simple. You should’ve told us. We’re your friends.”

“And I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” I replied with a grin.

The conversation took an abrupt turn when Liam dropped the big question, a sly grin spreading across his face. “also… what about Lucas? Have you two… you know, done it ?”

I stopped walking mid-step, the bag in my hand swaying slightly. I turned to look at him. “No.”

My response came out sharper than I intended.

I caught myself and took a deep breath, softening my tone. “It’s not something I want to rush.”

Liam nodded slowly, but before he could say anything else, I switched topics. “Anyway, how about we focus on what we’re eating tomorrow? We’ve got to plan the best New Year’s Eve.”

The mood instantly shifted.

Aria started rambling about the decorative lights she wanted to put around the beach towels, while Liam was already on the hunt for champagne.

We walked into a party supply store, and that’s when the real chaos began.

Aria dashed toward a stand filled with glow-in-the-dark ribbons and hats. “These are perfect for photos I’m gonna cry!” she exclaimed, holding up a headband that said “Hello, 2025!” in glittery gold letters. “Yes. Perfect only if you’re 12, or a shitty influencer?!” I responded.

Liam, on the other hand, found something even more ridiculous.

A pair of oversized glasses with “2025” sticking out on either side, so massive they were barely staying on his face. “Dean, how do I look? Should I go talk to talk to that girl over there?”

I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing. “Oh she will be so in love…”

“…with the thought of punching you.” I add.

We ended up buying balloons, fancy cups, sparklers, and a huge speaker Liam swore would keep the music alive all night long, and some other stuff I do not remember

By the time we walked out of the last store, our bags were overflowing, but our excitement was through the roof.

New Year’s Eve on the beach is one of my favorite days of the year.

If not the one.

And maybe, I thought, it would also be my chance to get a little closer to Lucas—but that was something that would take its own time.

We all piled into the car, our legs crammed between all the bags we’d just bought.

Liam was fiddling with the “2025” glasses he’d grabbed earlier, Aria was staring out the window with a huge grin, and I felt like I was driving a caravan of overly excited tourists.

“So,” I said, starting the engine, “how about we swing by my place first, drop off all this stuff, and then grab some food? Sound good?”

Aria turned abruptly, her face lighting up with excitement and shock. “Wait… so we going to Isaac’s house?”

I shot her a sideways glance.

I already knew where this was heading.

Letting out a small, awkward laugh, I replied, “Yeah, Isaac’s house. Why the excitement? It’s just a house, not Buckingham Palace!”

“Finally!” she exclaimed, completely ignoring me. “I’m going to meet him! Honestly, I think we’re going to get along so well. I already know a bunch of stuff about him. Plus, he is so my type”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

I felt an annoying feeling, again.

My smile faded slightly, and I turned to give her a suspicious look.

“You’re not thinking about making a move on Isaac too, are you?”

Aria looked at me, first shocked and then bursting into laughter. “Too? What do you mean too? Who else did?!”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

Honestly, it was like Isaac had some kind of magic potion that made everyone want him.

He was a people magnet, and I… I was the guy who had to clean up the mess they all left behind.

“Listen, Aria, I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s some kind of conspiracy against me. Everyone wants Isaac. Everyone! That’s actually unfair, I liked him first! I’m the one who puts up with his complaining about every single thing, you know? And now? Now you all want to hit on him!”

Aria looks at me with her mouth open.

“…Woah…wait…you like Isaac?! Dean I thought you were trying things with Lucas”

“Well…? Did you hear me saying -I like him-? no?! I said -I liked him-. And you know what? it was probably just a silly crush, because of all that random flirting that he always did, not anything serious. And yes, I am trying things with Lucas and it goes pretty well.”

Liam nearly choked on his laughter. “What the hell was that about?!”

Aria leaned forward, laughing as she lightly tapped my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m not like the others. Plus, I wouldn’t do anything if I knew that you actually like him”.

I turned to her, narrowing my eyes, full of suspicion. “Yeah, that’s exactly what Katie also said.”

“Katie? The restaurant Katie? What did she do?” Aria asked, her interest suddenly piqued.

I shook my head, not ready to dive into the drama of Katie and Isaac again. “You’ll find out tomorrow. Or now, if you’re lucky”.

Aria sighed. “You’re always like this. You never tell the whole story.”

“Because I can’t handle reliving it!” I said, tapping the steering wheel for emphasis.

“Liam, is there any chance you want Isaac too?”

“Nah i’m good man.”

All I wanted was to drop off the bags, grab some food, and forget for a moment that all my friends – and probably the entire city – seemed to want Isaac.

I unlock the door and push it open slowly, almost hesitantly.

I knew something was going to go wrong. I had that feeling ever since we got in the car. But what I see when we step inside… this is beyond anything I could have imagined.

Katie. On top of Isaac. The two of them on the couch, watching a movie together, so comfortable they look like they’re in their own little universe.

I’m going to throw up.

Katie jumps up so fast she almost trips over the coffee table in front of her.

Liam, without missing a beat, covers his eyes with his hand like he’s trying to preserve his innocence. Aria freezes in place, her eyes locked on Isaac, while I’m stuck looking between Katie, Isaac, and my friends in utter disbelief.

The silence is deafening. My throat feels dry, and I swallow hard.

“Aria, Liam, that’s Isaac Nabokov, my roommate, and…Katie. From the restaurant. Guys, this is Aria and Liam”.

Aria, being Aria, breaks the silence.

“Isaac,” she says without a shred of shame,

“do you do, by any chance, casual hookups?! like, with girls? Or boys?! Anything?!”

Katie’s eyes widen as she stares at him, clearly waiting to see how he’s going to respond.

Isaac, on the other hand, remains completely unfazed, his usual calm expression plastered on his face.

He doesn’t say a word.

Aria shrugs and tilts her head slightly. “Guess not,” she says, as if his lack of an answer didn’t bother her at all, and keeps looking at him with curiosity.

Isaac laughs, one of his relaxed, almost provocative laughs, while Katie gives him a strange look, like she’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

And me? I just want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“So, Isaac, these are my friends,” I say quickly, trying to get past this entire ordeal.

Liam nods like he’s saying, “Thanks for clarifying that,” while Aria gives Isaac a bright smile and a quick nod.

“We will go upstairs, we don’t want to bother you,” I blurt out, grabbing the bags.

I don’t wait for a response.

I head up the stairs with Liam and Aria following, leaving Isaac and Katie to figure out… whatever that was.

As soon as we’re upstairs and the door clicks shut, there’s a beat of silence.

Then, Aria, arms crossed, lets out a sharp,

“That bitch .”

I choke on a laugh, quickly covering my mouth.

Liam dramatically flops onto the bed, throwing his hands over his face like he’s in the middle of an existential crisis. “I think my confidence just took a major hit. Honestly, is it too much to ask for girls to just… fall on me like that? Is it?!”

I couldn’t help it.

A loud laugh bursts out of me. “Liam, come on, you’re acting like you’ve been single forever.”

“Forever,” he groans, peeking at me from between his fingers. “Do you see the way Isaac doesn’t even have to try? It’s like the universe hands him these situations on a silver platter. Meanwhile, I get ghosted after three texts. Three! Am I asking for too much?”

Aria scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You? Too much? Liam, you literally asked a girl out once by sending her a meme. Maybe raise your standards a little first.”

He sits up, offended. “That meme was hilarious. She had no taste.”

I’m doubled over by now, laughing so hard my stomach hurts. Their reactions are exactly what I needed to get my mind off the awkward nightmare we’d just walked into downstairs. The knot in my stomach loosens with every laugh, and I’m grateful for them distracting me.

“Honestly,” Aria says, turning to me with a smirk, “I don’t even blame Katie. If Isaac wasn’t your roommate, I’d be on that couch too.”

I glare at her, pointing a warning finger. “That’s not okay.”

She bursts into laughter, throwing a pillow at me. Liam groans dramatically again, flopping back onto the bed.

“At least someone let me borrow Isaac’s leather jacket or something,” Liam says, half-joking. “It might be the secret.”

“Yeah, sure,” I snort. “Because that’s all it takes.”

The three of us burst out laughing again, and for the first time since opening that door downstairs, I feel like I can breathe.

30 Minutes Later

We are finally ready to go. I grabbed my phone and glanced around the room to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything. That’s when I saw Katie slipping into the bathroom.

My chest tightened.

My heart picked up speed, hammering against my ribs.

You know what? I am going to talk to Isaac.

I had to do this.

I’d already made up my mind.

Tomorrow, the year was changing, and so was I.

Today had been a wake-up call, and if I didn’t do this now, I didn’t know if I ever would.

I turned to Aria and Liam, who were lounging on the bed. “Wait here for a minute,” I told them, trying to sound casual, though I could feel the nerves in my voice. “I’ll be right back.”

Aria raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious, but didn’t say anything.

Liam just waved me off, scrolling through his phone.

43. Allergic To Happiness

Dean

I headed downstairs, my legs feeling heavier with every step. The living room came into view, and I saw Isaac, sitting on the couch alone, scrolling through his phone, looking as calm as ever.

But I wasn’t calm.

I walked over to him, each step steady, determined. He looked up at me, his eyebrows raising slightly, probably noticing the look on my face.

“Hey,” I started, clearing my throat. “I need to talk to you. Just for a minute.”

Isaac tilted his head, setting his phone down. “Okay,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, clenching my hands into fists before relaxing them again. “I just…” I hesitated, but only for a second. “I have something important to tell you. Something I can’t keep in anymore.”

He blinked, straightening up.

“You’re kinda scaring me, Clark,” he said, but this time his voice was quieter.

There was a hint of something else, something I couldn’t quite place.

“I…” I took a deep breath, forcing the words out before I could second-guess myself. “With the year ending tomorrow, I realized I can’t go into it with this on my chest. I need to get it out.”

He stood up, his expression shifting to something more serious, more… nervous?

That wasn’t like him. Isaac was always so calm, so composed.

Before I could say more, he spoke, his voice lower now.

“Dean,” he said, looking me directly in the eyes, “God, I have something to tell you, too.”

I froze, taken aback. “You do?”

He nodded, his gaze unwavering.

I swallowed hard, my heart thundering in my chest. “Let me go first,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

And that’s where everything hung—right on the edge, the words sitting heavy between us, waiting to be said.

I let out a long breath, feeling like I might pass out from how tense my chest was.

I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this, saying all this out loud.

But there was no turning back now.

“Okay,” I started, my voice shaky but determined. “Here goes nothing.”

Isaac stood there, looking at me with that unreadable expression he always had, the one that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. It didn’t help my nerves.

“I… until recently— very recently —I… I liked you,” I said, the words tumbling out faster than I expected. “Like, a lot.”

His eyebrows twitched slightly, but he stayed quiet.

So, I kept going, because if I didn’t get it all out now, I never would.

“I don’t even know why, okay? It just… happened. One day, I realized it, and it was like this massive weight just dropped on me.” I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “And when I introduced you to Katie… God, Isaac, I hated it. I hated every second of it. I couldn’t stand seeing you two together. It felt awful. Absolutely awful.”

He didn’t say anything, but I saw his shoulders tense slightly.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to gather my thoughts. “I almost pushed away Lucas because of you. Do you get that? And it’s not like I wanted to feel this way, but I just… couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was like you were in my head 24/7, and I hated myself for it.”

Isaac’s lips parted slightly, but he still didn’t speak.

“And when we played Truth or Dare.” I laughed bitterly, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “When Nate kissed you, God, I was so jealous I couldn’t even think straight. It was stupid, I know, especially knowing that you don’t like people that way, you only do one-night stands or whatever, but I couldn’t help it. It was like this… this insane, possessive feeling I didn’t even know I was capable of having.”

I stopped for a moment, catching my breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions I’d just unleashed. “But now… after seeing you with Katie again, I don’t know. It’s like something clicked. I realized how selfish I was being—how I couldn’t even be happy for her because I was too caught up in my own feelings. And that’s not me, Isaac. I’m not that person.”

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. “It’s gone now. Whatever I was feeling for you… it’s gone. I guess I just needed to say it out loud to really let it go.”

The room felt suffocatingly quiet.

I stared at him, waiting for any kind of response, but he just stood there, completely frozen.

His eyes were wide, and his jaw was slightly slack, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

Then, slowly, he raised a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes like he was trying to wake himself up from a bad dream—or maybe trying to process what had just hit him.

“Dean…” he started, but his voice trailed off. He shook his head, blinking a few times as if he didn’t know what to say next.

I shifted awkwardly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Look, you don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted to be honest. That’s all.”

He didn’t respond.

He just stared at me, still rubbing his eyes, as if he was trying to make sense of it all.

And honestly? I didn’t blame him. This was a lot to dump on someone.

Now I just had to figure out how to survive the silence that followed.

I had completely forgotten that Isaac wanted to tell me something.

Then, I remembered and asked him, my gaze fixed on him. “So, what did you wanted to talk about?”

He stayed silent, staring back at me.

For a moment, I thought he was embarrassed, that he felt awkward because I had just told him how I felt about him.

It made sense to think that, given the tension in the air, and I was still feeling flushed from the words I had just blurted out.

“Come on, Isaac, I told you, there’s nothing anymore. I know it’s weird, but… I don’t feel anything now. And I don’t want to mess up your relationship with Katie anymore, you get it, right? I’m not going to get involved with this again,” I said, wanting to reassure him.

He looked at me for a moment before answering, almost irritated. “I got it, Dean. You don’t need to say it again.”

I looked at him, waiting for him to continue, and eventually, he did.

“Well…I just wanted to say… uh, thank you. Thank you for introducing me to Katie, you know? She’s really nice.”

My expression must’ve completely changed because I wasn’t expecting that.

The truth is, I had prepared myself for something completely different, but somehow… I felt relieved. “E… okay,” I replied, trying to hide my confusion.

But just then, Katie popped out of nowhere, screaming Isaac’s name like nothing had happened. “Isaac!” she yelled.

“Oh god,” he muttered, the second he heard her.

“I don’t believe I’m interrupting anything, am I?” she said with a big smile.

“No, no you don’t. I was just asking Isaac if I should buy more beers, for tomorrow at the beach but, we already have enough” I told her, smiling back, trying to seem relaxed.

I closed my eyes for a moment and just sighed.

“Okay, guys, see you later. Have fun” I said, heading upstairs to the others. All of this was totally unexpected, but at least now that we were here, I wanted to leave it behind and just have a good time.

Isaac

…

At this point, I’m convinced i’m just fucking allergic to happiness or something man, ain’t no other possible explanation.

---

Hey guys it’s me disco, I just wanted to apologize for this story because I know it’s not that enjoyable since it’s the first one i wrote, but I promise I will edit it soon and it will be so much better i just need you to trust me 💔

Ride or Die (my second story) is literally proof that I improved my writing a lot, so I promise to make this story enjoyable too🩷

thanks for reading :)

44. Don’t Let Him Drink

Last Day Of 2024 - Dean

The car was like a moving party.

“Mandala” by Fly Project was blasting through the speakers, and Aria and I were in the back, bouncing to the beat, hitting the seats.

Aria was yelling the lyrics completely off-key, and I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even join in.

Liam had rolled down his window, looking at some girls in the car next to us, about our age.

They were smiling and giggling at him, and, of course, he didn’t miss a beat.

He grinned back and waved at them like he was a movie star.

“Did you see that? Did you see them flirting with me?” Liam, sitting in the passenger seat, turned to us, his face lit up with excitement.

Aria and I burst out laughing.

“Yeah, Liam, we saw it. It was groundbreaking. Maybe you should check if you got pregnant” I said, trying to sound serious but failing miserably.

Next to me, I found a pair of sunglasses with a beer-shaped frame that I’d dug out of a bag earlier.

I put them on and Aria started taking pictures of me.

Lucas glanced at me through the rearview mirror while driving. He raised an eyebrow. “Nice glasses, Dean. Hand them over.”

“Not a chance” I said, pulling them tighter onto my nose.

Without missing a beat, Lucas reached back with one hand while still driving, trying to grab them. “Give them here, Dean!”

“Dream on!” I laughed and, in a flash, grabbed a wand Aria had bought from some tourist shop.

I smacked his hand for fun with it multiple times, making him pull back.

“Stop hitting the poor guy” Aria says but I don’t listen.

From the front, Liam scratched his head and groaned. “When are we getting there? My swimsuit’s already starting to itch!”

Lucas, smirking triumphantly, turned his head slightly. “We’re almost there, man. Hang tight.”

Arriving at the beach

When we arrived, the view was stunning.

The sun was low on the horizon, and the sea shimmered in golden hues.

Despite the flood of cars arriving, we were early enough to grab a prime spot right next to the water.

Lucas parked the car, and we all tumbled out, buzzing with excitement.

The salty breeze hit our faces.

“This spot is perfect!” Aria shouted, tossing her bag onto the sand.

“I’m going in right now man, I can’t keep up with this heat anymore” Liam announced, already halfway through pulling off his shirt.

“Hold up, maniac,” I said. “Let’s set up the towels first. You don’t want sand all over our stuff, do you?”

It was the perfect start to what promised to be an unforgettable night.

We each grabbed a bag—packed to the brim with everything you could imagine, and started walking toward the sand.

The beach was already pretty crowded with families, groups of friends, and couples scattered everywhere.

Still, it was nothing compared to how packed it would get later.

The sun was scorching everything in sight, and I kept wiping sweat off my forehead, but it wouldn’t go away.

Not that I cared, though, I was way too excited.

Celebrating New Year’s Eve on the beach with my friends? There was nothing better than that.

I miss Alex though. But I know he’s happy so, I don’t have a reason to worry.

We kept walking, passing by people already settled under umbrellas or snacking out of cooler bags. A group nearby had brought speakers, blasting “Rush” by Troye Sivan.

Further down, a guy was trying to grill burgers on a tiny portable barbecue, while his friends cracked up every time something burned.

Finally, we found the perfect spot, close enough to the water to feel the sea breeze but far enough that the waves wouldn’t reach us.

We dumped our stuff onto the sand and got to work setting up.

“This is it,” Lucas said, dropping the cooler onto the ground and immediately pulling out the food.

We all stripped down to our swimsuits, making the heat just a bit more bearable.

Aria spread out her towel, bright yellow with a pineapple pattern, with such precision, you’d think she was entering some kind of competition.

Liam was digging through his bag looking for sunscreen and almost tipped over an entire box of beers in the process.

I started setting up the drinks. The bag was loaded with cans of soda, bottles of alcohol, and stacks of plastic cups, all ready to go.

The beach around us was alive.

Laughter echoed from every direction, kids ran screaming with joy into the waves, and in the distance, a group was playing volleyball in the sand.

A couple nearby was building a massive sandcastle with buckets and shovels, while another group further down seemed to be holding a contest for the most dramatic dive into the water.

As I spread out my towel and looked around, I felt this overwhelming moment of happiness—the sea in front of us, the warm sand beneath my feet, and my friends buzzing with energy and excitement.

I didn’t need anything else.

The afternoon was slowly settling in, and the heat was finally starting to ease up.

Our group was lounging on the sand, tired but still buzzing with energy for what the night had in store.

Lucas and I decided to walk over to another group nearby, who had set up a small stand full of drinks.

Liam, in his usual effort to impress every girl who walked by, had already handed out all of our drinks, so we desperately needed to restock.

As we approached the stand, a guy standing behind it gave us a look that lasted a second too long.

Lucas smiled politely and asked what drinks they had.

I was digging through the pocket of my swim shorts to pull out some cash.

“What do you want?” the guy asked, his tone sharp.

“Bacardi would be good,” Lucas said casually.

“We’re out of it,” the guy replied, glancing at Lucas before locking eyes with me.

“There are literally 3 bottles there” I replied to him.

“…And we don’t sell to just anyone. Sorry.”

I looked up at him, holding his gaze. “What do you mean by ‘just anyone’?”

“I mean what I said,” he replied with a smirk that made my blood boil.

“Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “we just want to buy a few drinks. We have money. We are not gonna steal them. There’s no need to make this a thing.”

“Maybe it’s already a thing,” he shot back, his smirk widening.

I stepped closer, ready to answer, when suddenly I felt a wet arm drape over my shoulders and Lucas’s shoulders.

“What’s going on here?”

I turned my head and saw him.

Isaac stood next to me, grinning widely.

He wore only a black pair of swim shorts and a thin gold chain around his neck.

His skin was glistening with seawater, droplets running down his face and arms.

The guy at the stand froze. Isaac let his arm slip off my shoulder and turned his attention to him.

“Jason,” Isaac said in a tone that left no room for argument, “give them whatever they need. They’re with me.”

Jason hesitated for a split second before nodding and grabbing drinks from the stand.

He didn’t say another word, just did exactly what Isaac told him to do.

I grabbed the bottle that he was giving me.

“Bacardi, huh?” Isaac asked, turning his attention back to me, his wide smile still firmly in place.

I nodded, still caught off guard.

It wasn’t just how effortlessly he defused the situation—it was the way everyone around him seemed to respect him without question.

The way he carried himself, his gaze, even the way he smiled—it all exuded a quiet confidence that was impossible to ignore.

I turn my gaze to Lucas, standing next to me, looking somewhat confused by the whole situation.

“Don’t let him drink too much. He can get… weird when he’s drunk. You don’t want to know,” Isaac says to Lucas, and I freeze for a moment.

Lucas looks at me, almost with doubt in his eyes.

I can tell he has no idea what Isaac means, but I have no intention of explaining anything right now.

Sometimes, I forget that he doesn’t have any idea of the things that have…happened between us.

Isaac extends his hand toward Lucas.

“I’m Isaac. Dean’s roommate. And you are?” he asks with that look that makes Lucas stare him up and down as if he can’t believe it.

“I’m Lucas… Nice to meet you,” he says hesitantly, his tone revealing his awkwardness.

Isaac widens his eyes, looking at Lucas with an expression like he just discovered something completely unbelievable.

“You’re Lucas?!” he asks, surprised, even though he has seen him before.

“Last time I checked, yeah, I was,” Lucas replies with a slightly bitter tone.

Isaac laughs and takes a sip from the bottle I’m holding without even asking.

“Funny, too,” he says, making me smile awkwardly.

“Where’s Katie?” I ask.

“With her parents. Somewhere” he replied, like he didn’t even care.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Isaac says, and walks off again.

Lucas and I glance at each other, almost uncomfortably.

I don’t know if Lucas felt it too, but there was this odd tension hanging in the air that seemed to settle, strangely enough.

“Good guy, that roommate. Though I expected him to be a bit more… short,” Lucas says, laughing.

“-Big body, microscopic brain- should be written on his forehead,” I say, and we laugh together.

Isaac returns shortly after, holding two bottles, and behind him follow Mia and Nate. He looks at us and asks with his usual confidence.

“Where are we sitting?”

Mia greets me with a wide smile, and I return the greeting.

45. Furious

1 Hour Later - Isaac

The music played softly in the background, the voices and laughter of the group blending with the sound of the waves.

The sun was setting slowly, painting the sky orange and pink, and I was sitting on the towels with the rest of the guys, a beer in my hand.

But my eyes were on Lucas.

Or rather, on Lucas glued to Dean.

He laughed at all his jokes, touched his shoulder, his arm—constantly, even when there was no fucking reason to.

A completely calculated way to show that he was there.

It didn’t bother me so much that he was trying—it was the fact that Dean seemed to be paying attention. Or at least, that’s how it looked.

Dean had been drinking too, and it was obvious too.

His gaze, his movements, everything about him was a little more relaxed than usual.

But there was something I noticed.

He didn’t look at Lucas the way he looked at me when he’d had a drink.

When his gaze drifted away from the conversation, he landed on me again.

I winked at him and took a sip of my beer, my eyes holding his without hesitation.

For a moment, he froze.

Then, almost guiltily, he quickly turned his head back to Lucas, who kept talking like he hadn’t noticed anything.

But I saw it.

That slight twitch at the corner of Dean’s mouth.

That son of a bitch wanted to smile.

The moment was broken when Mia, more enthusiastic than the rest, jumped up and shouted: “Hey, let’s play some beach volleyball! I’m sick of sitting around like seagulls, bro” I wasn’t sure anyone else had the energy, but of course, Lucas was the first to get up.

“We’re in” he yelled, practically dragging Dean along with him.

I followed, along with a few others. I wasn’t going to miss this game.

Lucas is the first to jump up, full of energy.

“I’m with Dean, obviously!” he shouts, raising his hand like it’s not up for debate.

Next to him, Dean chuckles softly, not saying anything.

He stands a little behind, as relaxed as ever. Aria follows him, tossing her beer aside and taking her place on the same team.

I glance around. “We’re gonna need a few more people, Lucas,” I say. He just shrugs, his eyes locked on Dean like he’s the only thing that matters.

Further back, Liam is fooling around with Mia, who’s laughing and yelling as she tries to dodge him.

Next to me, Nate stands still, a puzzled look on his face. “So, what now? How are we finding more people?” he asks, clearly waiting for me to make the next move.

I think quickly. We need five more. Casually scanning the beach, I take a moment to breathe.

That’s when I spot them, a group not too far away, two girls and three guys, already passing a ball between each other and laughing.

I can’t help but smile to myself. “Stay here,” I tell Nate, and I start walking toward them. My easy steps catch their attention before I even get close.

One of the girls, with long brown hair, stops laughing and looks at me, holding the ball in her hands.

“Hey, you guys up for some beach volleyball? We need a few more people,” I ask, trying to sound casual but not pushy.

The group exchanges quick glances before the same girl laughs. “Absolutely!” she says, tossing the ball to me.

I catch it mid-air, turn back toward my group, and gesture for them to join us.

“We’ve got a team.”

The teams come together quickly. Lucas, of course, sticks with Dean and Aria, while I end up with Nate, Liam, Mia, and two of the newcomers. The rest of the new group joins the other team.

I glance over at Dean as he takes his position on the opposite side of the makeshift court.

He doesn’t seem too focused, in fact, he looks more relaxed than ever. And for some reason, that gives me an odd kind of confidence.

The game starts, and it’s a lot more fun than I expected.

The shouts, the moments when nobody reaches the ball in time and everyone ends up blaming each other—it all fills the air.

Every now and then, when Lucas makes some big, exaggerated effort to show off, Dean sneaks a quick glance in my direction.

And every time he does, I make sure he notices that I’ve noticed.

The game started off lighthearted, filled with laughter and shouts, but within minutes Lucas started taking it seriously.

It was clear he was using every pass, every opportunity, to impress Dean.

Fuck off.

He ran faster, dove for balls in a way that looked more dramatic than necessary.

At one point, Dean stumbled trying to save the ball, and Lucas was on him before anyone else could react, helping him up and laughing as he patted him on the back.

I tried not to push the ball on his head.

I waited. I waited for the right moment.

When the ball came to me, I spiked it hard, just over Lucas’s hands. Dean, almost instinctively, turned toward me.

“That was a damn good one” he called out, smiling, and it was that kind of smile that was more genuine than all the ones he’d given Lucas all day.

I couldn’t help but smile back.

I made it a little more obvious than it needed to be. Lucas’s eyes darted toward me, a fleeting glance full of annoyance.

He knew what had happened.

The final round was as intense as everyone expected.

The ball went back and forth, every hit making the group hold their breath. One of my guys sent the ball to the other side with a sneaky shot. Lucas shouted:

“Dean, save it!”

I turned to see what he’d do.

Dean, slightly delayed, glanced at Lucas before rushing to catch the ball.

But he didn’t make it in time.

The ball hit the ground, and so did Dean, in a way that instantly put me on edge.

He hit the sand hard.

Lucas turned away, frustrated, throwing his hands in the air. “That’s it, we lost, it’s over,” he muttered, walking toward the edge of the court.

But I wasn’t looking at Lucas. My eyes were on Dean, who hadn’t gotten up yet. He was still on the ground, leaning on one hand, his other clutching his side.

Panic hit me. The fucking stitches.

Before I could think, I was rushing toward him, my feet heavy and hurried like I couldn’t get there fast enough.

“Dean! Are you okay? Does it hurt? Did the stitch got ripped?” The questions poured out of me without pause.

He looked up at me, trying to smile. “I’m fine, relax. I just…fell a bit harder”

I didn’t believe him. I crouched beside him, my eyes fixed on his hand covering his side. “Let me see,” I said, and before he could argue, I lightly lifted his shirt.

And there it was. A faint line of blood trickling down. It wasn’t serious, but I didn’t like seeing him hurt.

“Alright, it’s nothing major,” I said, mostly to calm myself. Lucas, however, shouted from the other side: “Does anyone have iodine? We need to clean it!”

I whipped my head around so fast I thought my neck might snap. “Iodine? Get your shit together Lucas! You want to make it worse?”

Dean raised his hand like he was trying to stop us. “Calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

I ignored him completely. “Dean, I’ll grab the saline and clean covers from your bag,” I said, already moving to stand up.

But before I could even get on my feet, he shot up. “No!”

The word came out sharp, more abrupt than I expected. It stopped me in my tracks.

I stared at him, confused.

“What do you mean, no? Dean, sit down. It’s two steps away, I’ll grab it myself.”

“Let Lucas go get it,” he said quickly, avoiding my gaze.

Lucas, without a word, got up and headed toward Dean’s bag. I stared at him, then back at Dean. “What the hell was that about?! Why can’t I go to your bag? Is there something going on?”

Dean avoided my eyes again. “Nothing’s going on. Just… sit tight. Lucas will get it.”

The excuse sounded flimsy.

Fake.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure him out, but he didn’t say anything more. “whatever you say, Dean”.

Lucas turned around with the supplies and started cleaning Dean’s wound.

I just stood there, like an idiot, watching him touch him so gently, as if I hadn’t already seen enough.

If he’s gonna find a boyfriend, can’t he at least find someone I like? Why is everyone so fucking unbearable?

Dean got up like nothing had happened, and with a grin, he waved his shirt around, trying to cool off. “I’m boiling,” he said, laughing, glancing at the group.

Nate, who was standing next to me, smiled. “Is it a bad time for a swim?” he asked.

Lucas, having just finished with Dean’s wound, looked at the water. “Honestly? That’s a good idea.”

Dean laughed quietly. “That’s not fair,” he said. “You all can swim, and I can’t.”

“Go ahead,” he added, waving them off. And just like that, everyone ran toward the water.

I watched them dive in, making loud splashes and laughing. They were having so much fun, splashing each other and wading through the water like little kids.

Nate had already grabbed Aria and thrown her in before she could react, while Mia chased after Liam, who was purposely splashing her.

I tried to relax, to shake off the anger from earlier.

I’m furious.

So furious, in fact, that the only thing keeping me from snapping, is the mental image of me slapping him, so freaking hard his head spins all the way around.

Honestly, that thought actually calmed me down.

At some point, Dean noticed me.

I hadn’t jumped in yet, and for some reason, he decided to tease me.

He kicked some water toward me, splashing my legs.

I turned and gave him a look. “You’re lucky you can’t go in the water, Clark. Otherwise you would be so done”

He burst out laughing, not taking me seriously. I took off my shirt, tossed it aside, and ran toward the water. It was cold at first, but I quickly adjusted.

Aria looked at Dean, who was still sitting on the sand, warming up in the sun. “Flip over and dunk your head already,” she shouted at him, laughing.

“Like a flamingo,” she added, giggling even more.

Suddenly, Liam approached Dean, with a mischievous smile. “Wait… what’s that?” he asked, pointing to something in the water.

Dean leaned in to take a look. I could tell Liam was up to something, but I acted like I didn’t see anything. Before Dean could say or do anything, Liam shoved his head down into the water, as if he was baptizing him.

Dean came up sputtering a little but laughing as well.

He fixed his black wet hair back and, before we could say a word, grabbed a handful of wet sand and slammed it onto Liam’s back with force.

Liam turned around suddenly, laughing and cursing, while Dean gave him an innocent smile, as if he hadn’t done anything. “You deserved that,” he said simply.

46. You Make My Heart Smile

11:50 PM - Dean

The moment of the New Year’s change was approaching, and the anticipation in the air was almost palpable.

My excitement was rising with each passing second. The sky was now dark, with all the stars now showing, and the beach was filled with people.

Most were sitting on the sand, couples cuddled up and enjoying the atmosphere.

It was perfect.

Mia had settled on Liam, who seemed like he was about to explode from joy, and everyone around was laughing and chatting.

I laughed too, seeing them all so happy.

Lucas was looking at his phone, and when it vibrated, he abruptly stood up.

“It’s my little sister,” he said.

“Sorry, Dean, she always wants to ring in the new year with me.” He gave me a quick but intense kiss, and with that, he walked away from the group.

Oh.

Isaac noticed and smiled. “Guess there’s no New Year’s kiss for us,” he said, glancing at me.

At that moment, I felt a bit disappointed, but I tried to hide it. I ignored Isaac’s comment and sat for a while, lost in my thoughts.

At first, I was puzzled by Lucas’s decision to leave, but then I realized that if Alex had asked me, I would have done the same. I wished Alex were here.

There were many kids around, around Alex’s age, playing and shouting excitedly about the fireworks they would soon see.

That’s when I remembered.

God.

The fireworks.

We had bought some, and I had left them in the passenger seat of the car.

I stood up abruptly, grabbed my bag, and headed for the car to get them.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Isaac and the others, and headed toward the car, which was parked on a little hill nearby.

I open the passenger door, crouching down to grab the fireworks and stuff them into my bag. My hand brushes against them, and just as I’m about to stand back up, I feel it. That eerie, unmistakable presence.

I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, there he is—Isaac.

One hand resting casually on the car, standing so close it’s like he’s trying to merge with the air I’m breathing.

My heart skips a beat, not out of fear, but because of how obnoxiously unfazed he looks. As always.

“Looking for something?” I ask, straightening up and taking a step back.

Too close. Way too close.

Isaac smiles at me, a smile so self-assured it practically announces he owns the ground he’s standing on, and maybe mine, too.

“No. Just curious how Lucas left you here all by yourself. He couldn’t have wandered far; he never does. Oh, right—he’s chatting with his sister. Interesting choice.”

I narrow my eyes, shaking my head as I pull my bag over my shoulder. “Don’t start with that.”

He shrugs, looking every bit like he’s just made the most harmless comment in the world, then tilts his head, changing gears effortlessly.

“Speaking of interesting choices, why’d you hide your bag from me earlier?”

I flinch, barely noticeable, but enough that Isaac catches it. Of course he does. He always does.

“Right,” I mutter, almost to myself. My hand darts into the bag, digging around until I feel it. I pull out a small box, hesitating for a second before holding it out to him.

“Belated Christmas gift,” I say, meeting his curious gaze. “But I think you’ll appreciate it.”

Isaac

I reach for the box slowly, my fingers brushing against it.

“Dean Clark giving me a gift? What’s going on?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He laughs too, though it’s different—lighter, forced.

He’s trying so hard to seem casual, but the way his mouth twitches betrays him. He’s… excited.

Why?

I turn my attention to the box in my hand. I lift the lid, and the moment I see what’s inside, the world stops.

It can’t be.

No, it can’t be.

The paintbrush. That paintbrush.

My mother’s. The one I thought I’d lost forever, the one I hadn’t even let myself hope to find again.

I blink, but it’s still there, resting in its box like some kind of treasure.

My chest feels tight, my breath shallow. My grip on the box falters for a moment, and I have to steady myself.

I finally look up at Dean, who’s standing there watching me, clearly waiting for something—some reaction, some response.

I can’t tell if he’s nervous or just curious.

“How…?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

I swallow hard, trying to get my thoughts in order, trying to ground myself, but it’s no use. My head is spinning.

Dean scratches the back of his neck, avoiding my gaze for a moment before speaking. “You know,” he begins, his tone lighter, almost teasing, “this wasn’t easy to get. Actually, it was a nightmare.”

I raise an eyebrow, still holding the box close to my chest. “A nightmare?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “Yeah. The day I found it was the last day before Christmas break. Everyone was cleaning out lockers, running around like lunatics, and I—well, I decided to start asking around. You’d mentioned it once, remember? That day we were talking about your mom? How you thought it was gone for good?”

I nod slowly, my chest tightening. I do remember.

“So, I started asking people. Anyone who might’ve seen it, touched it, known where it went. Teachers, students, the janitor. Hell, I even chased down a group of first-years who looked at me like I was insane.”

He grins at the memory, but there’s something else behind it, a flicker of frustration, maybe?

My lips twitch in amusement despite myself. “Sounds like you.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, his grin fading into something more serious. “Nothing was working. No one had seen it. A lot of people didn’t even know what I was talking about. I was ready to give up, Isaac. I swear I was. But then… then I remembered the art room.”

My breath catches. Of course.

“The art room,” I echo, my voice soft.

He nods. “Yeah. I went in, and it was chaos. Supplies everywhere, half the stuff getting packed up for the break. And then I noticed this old storage closet in the corner. It was locked, but—”

He pauses, smirking slightly. “Let’s just say I found a way in.”

I blink at him, stunned. “You broke into the art closet?”

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, the grin growing wider. “Let’s not dwell on that part. The point is, I got in. And there it was, buried under a pile of forgotten brushes and dried-up paint tubes. I almost didn’t see it, but then I noticed the handle. The gold lettering.”

My throat tightens. He remembered the lettering.

Dean exhales, his gaze flickering to the brush in my hand. “I don’t know why I cared so much. I just… I thought if it meant that much to you, I couldn’t let it stay lost. So, yeah. That’s how I found it.”

I stare at him, unable to speak.

My chest feels heavy, but in a good way, like my heart is too full to contain.

He looks so unguarded in this moment, his usual smirks and snark replaced by something softer.

And God, I can’t help it.

Dean catches my gaze.

I look at his eyes, then his lips. Then his eyes, then his lips.

His voice dips, quieter now.

“See? That was what I was talking about. This is what you always do to me. You make my heart smile, and then y—”

I don’t let him finish. I don’t need to hear the rest.

Before I can overthink it, I step forward, closing the small space between us, and press my lips to his.

The moment I pulled back, I realized it.

I had kissed Dean.

Me.

I kissed him.

My heart was about to burst out of my chest, beating so fast it was almost painful.

My hands were trembling, my body unsure of how to react.

I looked at him, desperately trying to read something in his expression, but I couldn’t.

It was blank-or maybe it was filled with so many emotions I couldn’t decipher them.

I wanted to say something, to explain, to apologize-anything— but before I could, he moved.

A sudden pull on my neck, a firm force bringing me close, and his lips crashed into mine again.

This time, there was no hesitation.

It was raw, intense, full of passion.

The kiss carried an energy so overwhelming it made me feel like I was unraveling from the inside out, unable to handle the electric charge passing between us.

His hands moved to the back of my neck, his fingers sliding into my hair, pulling me closer as if even an inch of distance was unbearable. I felt his heat, the way his body pressed into mine like he was trying to fuse us together.

I couldn’t think. My mind was blank, and all that was left was this-him. The weight of his lips on mine, the way his mouth moved with such fervor, like he was claiming something that had been his all along.

My hands, almost on their own, rose to his face.

My fingers touched his jaw, his skin warm under my palms.

I could feel his pulse, quick and wild, mirroring my own.

All the tension, the unspoken tension, found its release here, in this kiss.

There was a kind of freedom in it that made me feel like my body was melting, that every thought, every fear, had vanished, leaving only the sensation of Dean and his presence.

When we finally pulled away for air, his forehead rested against mine. I exhaled heavily, my lips still burning from his touch.

“Did that make your heart smile too, Clark?” I asked, my voice softer than I expected.

Dean’s lips twitched into a small, lopsided grin, the kind that always had a way of making my chest tighten. He didn’t answer right away, just stared at me like he was searching for something.

But before he could say a word, a voice broke the silence.

“Definitely made mine,” someone said, loud and clear.

Both of us jumped like we’d been shocked by a live wire. My heart, which had only just started to calm down, kicked into overdrive again.

47. - I thought -

Isaac

Dean immediately stepped away from me when the voice echoed.

Standing nearby was Mia, frozen in shock at what she had just seen.

Dean rushed to explain, but Mia grabbed both of us by the hand, her movements quick and urgent.

“We don’t have time for this now. You can explain later,” she said. “Come on, we have to move quickly.”

Without hesitation, Dean and I followed her, heading straight for the beach.

Everyone there was counting down, and then, the sky burst into fireworks.

So many fireworks.

I watched Dean, who was staring up at the explosions like he was seeing them for the first time in his life.

And that’s when it hit me, again, everything I feel for him.

I didn’t expect this.

Honestly, I never imagined I’d find myself here, with him, watching the fireworks like no one else in the world exists.

I had decided I wouldn’t care, that this was just a game that would end before it even began.

But Dean… Dean has something that makes me want to stay.

I’m looking at him now, his eyes reflecting the light from the fireworks, and that smile… It’s so pure, like he’s a kid seeing miracles for the first time.

I don’t know how he did it, but he broke through every defense I had.

And the worst part? He didn’t even do it on purpose. He’s just… him.

I always thought I could control my emotions, keep my distance, not get attached.

But with Dean, all of that fell apart.

I didn’t want this to happen, but I fell for him.

Without realizing it. Without wanting to. And it scares me.

Because now, I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him.

Dean

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned abruptly.

It was Lucas, with his usual excitement written all over his face.

“Happy New Year, guys!” he said, grinning as he looked at each of us. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

“No,” Isaac and I replied at the same time.

My voice came out clipped, almost mechanical.

Isaac, on the other hand, had that wide, smug grin plastered on his face, like he was untouchable. His whole demeanor screamed that he knew something no one else did.

And me? I felt awful. Guilt was eating me alive. How could I do that? How could I kiss him like that? Just like that?

I thought I had control over myself. I thought I could manage it. I thought it was gone.

I’d held myself back for so long, and today… today, all of it slipped away.

Before I could say anything else, Mia walked over to our group, her bright smile lighting up her face. “Happy New Year, everyone!” she said, opening her arms for hugs.

“Happy New Year,” I muttered, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

“What are you guys up to over here?” she asked, glancing between us with interest.

“Just… talking,” I replied quickly.

Mia raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting between me and Isaac for just a moment too long. A small, mischievous smile crept onto her lips.

“Talking, huh? Well, some conversations seem… pretty intense from the looks of it.”

I froze. My eyes widened. It felt like my blood turned to ice.

Isaac’s grin? It somehow got even bigger.

“What do you mean?” Lucas asked, staring at her in confusion.

Mia let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, nothing,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just saying my usual nonsense, as always.”

“Yeah, classic Mia,” I chimed in quickly, desperate to cover up. “Don’t pay her any attention, Lucas.”

He seemed to buy it, shaking his head and moving on to another topic.

But me? I couldn’t calm down.

The entire situation had me spiraling. Isaac’s look, Mia’s pointed comment, the fact that Lucas was standing right there with us… It all felt like it was closing in around me, like I was being cornered with no way out.

“Lucas, can you grab my jacket from the car? It’s kinda cold” I said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“…you don’t look cold” he replied.

…

“I am though…” I say trying to sound calm.

“Seriously?” he frowned. “Can’t you get it yourself?”

“Come on, it’s New Year’s,” I added, putting on a pleading face. “Please, I’ll owe you one.”

He sighed heavily but eventually relented. “Fine, I’ll go. You’re lucky it’s the first of January and I want to be a better person,” he said before walking off.

God. Sometimes when I look at him, I remember why we broke up back then.

I don’t even know if it’s worth trying…

I waited until he was out of sight, making sure he couldn’t hear us, before pulling Isaac and Mia closer behind a thick bush.

“Mia, listen to me,” I said, my voice full of panic. “You cannot, cannot tell anyone about what you saw with me and Isaac. Please. I don’t want anyone to know.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting in amusement. “Dean, relax. I didn’t say a word. But…”

Before she could finish, a voice came from behind us. “Wait. What?”

I jumped, almost knocking into Isaac, and turned around to see Liam standing there, looking absolutely shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Liam, what the hell,” I said, quickly stepping toward him, putting my hands on his shoulders.

“Please don’t make a scene.”

“But… you two…you KISSED?!?!” His voice trailed off as he pointed between me and Isaac.

“Yes, but that’s not the point!” I snapped, lowering my voice even more. “What the hell are you doing in the bush?”

Liam flushed and looked away. “Uh… had a bit too much to drink, you know? Needed to… take a piss.”

Isaac snickered, and I shot him a look. “Seriously, Isaac? Come on.”

Liam shook his head, still not entirely understanding, but he didn’t ask more questions. I turned back to Isaac and Mia.

“If Katie finds out about this… she won’t talk to me again.”

Isaac’s grin faltered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

“You’re overthinking it, I mean we are not even in a relationship… seriously.” he said, but his voice held a certain edge. “But if that’s what you want…”

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” I answered firmly, though my insides were a mess.

Isaac’s smile returned, this time with a hint of something more. “You know, Dean,” he said slowly, stepping a little closer to me, “I have to admit, you were pretty damn good at that.”

I froze, not sure if he was talking about the kiss or something else.

But his eyes, the way he was looking at me—there was no mistaking it.

He had enjoyed it.

I did too. A lot. That’s why I feel like shit now. I’m a bad person.

Lucas returned a little later, holding my jacket in his hands. “Got it, am I good now?” he said with a playful smile as he handed it to me.

But I couldn’t focus on anything he was saying.

Lucas stared at me more intensely when he saw the silence. “Tell me you’re alright, Dean. You look kinda… I don’t know.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I quickly said, trying to convince myself before convincing him. “Just a little tired. The drinks got to me today.”

Lucas looked at me for a moment longer, but eventually shrugged. “Alright, if you say so.”

My gaze shifted from Lucas to Isaac and Mia.

The air was heavier than ever, but I tried to stay calm. Don’t forget, I thought. I’m here, and I’m trying to control this.

48. I’m leaving

Later That Night - Dean

I walk into the house with Isaac.

Not a word. Not even a glance.

The silence between us is deafening, filled with everything we’re too afraid to say.

Our footsteps echo on the floor as we gather our things from the living room. I don’t even know how to stand near him without feeling the weight hanging in the air.

10 Minutes Later

I take a deep breath and decide to be the first to escape this awkward scene.

I walk to his room, he’s already inside, tidying something on his desk.

I stop at the door.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I say abruptly, without even knowing why I’m announcing it.

I just wanted to say something. Anything.

He looks at me. His voice comes out calm but sharp: “And why are you telling me that? Do you want me to join you?”

I freeze.

My heart does a wild dive in my chest. I’m so caught off guard that it takes me a second to respond.

“Fuck no” I blurt out, almost defensively. My voice comes out louder than I intended.

My face burns, but my mind whispers something different from what I just said.

Did I want the opposite?!

I turn my back and head to the bathroom. I close the door behind me with a heavy “click” and lock it.

I didn’t want visitors. Definitely not.

The water runs hot, drowning out the noise of my thoughts that just won’t stop.

My hands press against my temples, trying to push away the truth that’s lodged itself in my head.

God…

I enjoyed that kiss. More than I should have.

My lips still remember the feel of his. The taste. The warmth.

I caught myself smiling, cause honestly, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had.

As much as I want to deny it, it shook me. But I knew it was wrong.

Katie… if she found out, she’d be furious. And she wouldn’t be wrong.

We’re friends.

I didn’t want to hurt her, and things would get unbearably awkward at work.

And Lucas… I didn’t want to betray his trust.

I grit my teeth and let the water crash down on me. I have to push these thoughts out of my head.

They lead nowhere.

It can’t happen again.

I turn off the water and dry myself quickly. I look into the mirror and see a different Dean staring back at me.

A Dean who can’t even convince himself.

I head toward the kitchen, towel in hand, drying my wet hair as I go. The cool air brushes against my skin, but it does nothing to settle the heat still lingering under my ribs.

Isaac is sprawled on the couch in the living room, shirtless, lounging in that aggressively careless way of his, arms wrapped around Nala.

Seriously?

“Can’t you at least put a shirt on?” I ask, annoyance lacing my voice.

He doesn’t even flinch. His lips curl into a smug smile, one that instantly makes my nerves tighten.

“Didn’t seem to bother you when you were shoving your tongue down my fucking throat. But now it bothers you to see me without a shirt?”

My entire face burns.

I drag the towel down over it, desperate to hide my expression, though it does nothing to stop the frustration boiling inside me, and the embarrassment.

What the hell was I thinking?

I drop the towel on the counter and turn to face him, trying to summon whatever composure I have left.

“Look,” I start, voice firm but uneven, “that shouldn’t have happened. It was a mistake.”

He leans back, looking at me with unsettling confidence. “A mistake?”

“Yes,” I snap. “I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. Because I did. But it can’t happen again. If this gets out, it won’t be good for either of us.”

His eyes narrow, and I can feel the shift in his energy, from playful to something sharper.

“Seriously? You’re worried about people finding out?” He crosses his arms. “Afraid Katie’s gonna get hurt? Be so for real. She wouldn’t even want me if I wasn’t that handsome” He replies.

I clench my jaw, already feeling the irritation rising in my chest. “Yes, I care. And I care about Lucas too.”

Isaac snorts, shaking his head. “If you actually cared about them, you wouldn’t be using them as a cover for the fact that you want me .”

Oh.

That stings.

I feel it like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I can’t find the words to argue. But my pride keeps me standing upright.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” His voice softens, but there’s still a bite to it.

A heavy silence settles between us.

I want to say more, to deny it, to defend myself, but I can’t.

Then Isaac stands up, shifting Nala off his lap. He looks directly at me, that cocky edge gone from his expression.

“For what it’s worth, calm down, sweetheart, you won’t have to see me every day and fight temptation.”

I frown, not understanding where he’s going with this.

“I’m leaving for Russia,” he says flatly. “Two weeks. Gotta sort out some stuff with the new house.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but there’s something in the way he says it that feels like a challenge.

Two weeks without Isaac.

He grabs his phone from the coffee table and walks past me, his shoulder brushing mine just slightly.

“Problem solved, right?” he mutters as he heads toward his room.

I stand there, the weight of his words sinking in, my hands clenched at my sides. And despite everything I just said, a part of me already feels the ache of missing him.

“When are you leaving?” I ask, my voice steady despite the strange knot tightening in my chest.

Isaac leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed. “Just booked my flight for the day after tomorrow.”

I blink, surprised by how soon that is. My gaze drops for a second, but I catch myself.

“And the house? What’s going to happen with it since, you know… it’s yours?”

He shrugs with complete indifference, raising his hands as if it’s no big deal. “You’ll take care of it.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “you’re serious?”

“Yeah, why not?” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It catches me off guard.

He trusts me that much? Even after all the tension, all the unspoken things hanging between us?

Like this is our house?!

“And Nala?” I ask, trying to ground myself in something practical.

He exhales, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll probably take her to my sister’s. She loves her anyway.”

I hesitate. “I can keep her if you want.”

Isaac smirks, that familiar glint of trouble flashing in his eyes. “Aw, look at you volunteering. Trying to impress me with your parenting skills?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m just trying to be helpful, idiot.”

But he keeps smiling at me, that easy, teasing confidence of his doing its usual trick of throwing me off balance.

“Suit yourself,” he says, pushing off the doorframe. “Just don’t spoil her too much. She’s got standards.”

As he walks past me toward the living room, I let out a slow breath.

Since August, he’d been part of my everyday life.

Whether I liked it or not, I’d gotten used to seeing him constantly, in the kitchen, sprawled out on the couch, walking around, always finding ways to mess with me.

And now, just like that, he was going to be gone.

It felt strange.

Unsettling, even.

Like something that had become part of my routine was suddenly being pulled away.

And the worst part? I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing… or something I already knew I’d miss.

49. Call Him.

Dean

Isaac had already been gone for a week, and it was getting under my skin more than I wanted to admit.

The house was unnaturally quiet and annoyingly tidy.

The kitchen, usually cluttered with his dirty dishes, was spotless.

The sink was empty. The counter gleamed.

It was as if he had taken all the chaos with him when he left.

I stood there, staring at the pristine countertops, trying to convince myself that I liked the order.

But I didn’t.

The knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts.

My heart skipped a beat.

For a split second, I imagined it was Isaac, back earlier than expected.

But when I opened the door, Lucas was standing there instead, wearing his usual self-assured expression.

“Hey,” he said casually. “Surprise.”

“Lucas?” My voice betrayed my confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” he asked, already stepping inside without waiting for an answer.

I closed the door behind him, still caught off guard.

He glanced around the living room, taking in the unusually neat space. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Wow,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm. “This place is… clean. Didn’t know Isaac was into that.”

“He’s not,” I muttered. “He’s away.”

“Yeah? For how long?”

“A week now.”

Lucas gave me a skeptical look. “Huh. Explains why it feels so… dead in here.”

“I like it this way,” I lied, crossing my arms defensively.

Lucas smirked. “Do you, though? Or are you just pretending because he’s not here to mess things up?”

I stiffened. “Why do you care?”

His smirk faded as his eyes sharpened. “No reason. Just seems like you’re being a little… defensive.”

“I’m not,” I shot back quickly. “It’s just… nothing’s going on, okay?”

“Right,” he drawled. “If you say so.”

The air between us was thick with unspoken tension as we headed upstairs to my room.

Lucas sat on the edge of my bed, watching me with a gaze that made my skin prickle.

“You’ve been weird lately,” he said bluntly.

“What?” I blinked. “I have not.”

“You have. Distant. Distracted.”

“I’m just… busy,” I lied again, feeling cornered.

“Sure,” he said softly, leaning closer. “Maybe I can help you clear your head then.”

Before I could process what was happening, his lips were on mine. For a moment, I almost let myself get lost in it.

But something inside me held back, a hesitation I couldn’t ignore.

Lucas felt it too.

He pulled back, frustration flickering in his eyes.

“Seriously, Dean?” he muttered, his voice tight with annoyance. “What the fuck is this?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

He stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Lucas, wait,” I pleaded. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh you know exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice was sharp now, cutting through the room. “You’re not here with me. You’re thinking about someone else. And we both know who that is.”

“You’re wrong,” I insisted, panic creeping into my voice. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Dean.” His gaze hardened.

“You have feelings for Isaac. It’s written all over you. And I’m not interested in being second to someone who isn’t even here.”

“Lucas, it’s not like that—”

“Enough.” He shook his head, his expression filled with hurt and anger. “I’m not going to be part of this game.”

He moved toward the door, and I followed him desperately.

“Please, don’t go like this,” I begged.

But he didn’t stop. “Figure yourself out, Dean. And when you do, maybe we’ll talk.”

The door slammed behind him, and the sound echoed through the house. 

Great.

The truth was impossible to ignore now.

30 Minutes Later - Dean

The bottle of Jaegermeister sat next to me, half-empty now. The bitter taste still burned in my mouth, but I didn’t stop.

Isaac had a taste in alcohol, for sure.

Every time I thought about him, I punished myself with another shot of this vile stuff.

1 Hour Later

I can’t stop drinking. The truth was literally impossible to ignore now.

And I was stuck here, drowning in the weight of it all, with only this bitter drink and my messy, hopeless thoughts for company.

It had started as a stupid idea, a way to distract myself, maybe.

Now it was just a cruel ritual.

And the result? A head swimming with alcohol and a body that refused to move from the couch.

I stared at the ceiling, watching shadows shift under the dim light of the room.

But no matter where I looked, Isaac was there.

Always in my mind, like a ghost that wouldn’t leave. I thought about his perfect, stupid smile, the cocky way he carried himself, the way he laughed even when I said the dumbest things.

And that body of his…

Only God knows how much I want to lick every single inch of it.

I wanted him so badly it physically hurt, and I hated myself for it.

I let out a laugh, soft and bitter. Damn it, even when he wasn’t here, he had this hold on me.

Lucas had been right, hadn’t he?

The realization settled into my chest, heavy and undeniable. Lucas had seen it before I was ready to admit it to myself. My feelings for Isaac weren’t just lingering thoughts or fleeting moments. They were consuming, unshakable, and I hated how obvious it was to everyone but me.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair, my fingers clumsy from the alcohol. My eyes landed on my phone sitting on the table, the screen dark.

It took effort to grab it, and for a moment, I almost dropped it.

I clutched it tightly and turned it on, wincing as the bright light stung my eyes.

Isaac had been online two hours ago.

I sighed heavily, a mixture of longing and frustration filling my chest.

What was he doing? Why hadn’t he sent me anything?

The idea came suddenly, reckless and fueled by alcohol.

Call him.

I pressed his name and held the phone to my ear, heart racing despite the haze in my head.

The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

“Come on,” I whispered, desperate.

Nothing.

The automated voice broke through the silence, cold and impersonal.

“Damn it, Isaac…” I muttered under my breath.

“Hi. This is Isaac’s voicemail. Leave a message after the beep.”

beep

“Oh, uh.. alright, you’re not picking up… that’s probably for the best, honestly, ’cause I don’t even know why I’m calling. But—hah, yeah, I do know. It’s because… God, I’ve had way too much to drink. Way too much. Anyway… Isaac. Damn, you fucker… do you even have a clue what you do to me? No, seriously. Sometimes I look at you, and I think things that… oh man, I really shouldn’t be thinking. You get what I mean, right? The kind of thoughts that if I said them out loud, I’d turn red as hell—but since I’ve had a few drinks… I just don’t care. You’re just… you. So cool, so confident, smoking hot too and I… I’m just here staring at you like an idiot. Sometimes I watch you laugh in that way you do, or walk with that insane confidence that drives me crazy. And I just want to get close to you, to… Ugh! I shouldn’t say this, right? But you know what? I don’t care. Because it’s you, and you make me feel… alive. And terrified at the same time. ’Cause this thing I feel for you, I’ve never felt it for anyone. Never have I ever wanted to suck a specific dick so freaking much in my life. I’m sure it’s huge too. It has to be. Holy shit, I actually cannot stop thinking about this lately. And damn it… I like it, but it scares the hell out of me too. You’re like… I don’t know… fire, and I just want to burn inside it. God, what the hell am I even saying… forget it. You’ll delete this, right? Please tell me you’ll delete this. Anyways, Goodnight, Isaac. Thanks for existing”.

I hang up. But I don’t feel like I said all the things that I wanted to say.

I call again.

Voicemail kicks in. Again.

“Of course you wouldn’t pick up, you Heatwave. Yeah, that’s what I’m calling you now. Because honestly, being around you is like standing too close to a bonfire—dangerously hot and guaranteed to mess with my head. Seriously, it should come with a warning sign. God, I’m so funny”.

I laugh under my breath, shaking my head at myself. “Anyway, Lucas dumped me today. Said my feelings for you are way too big to ignore. And you know what? He’s probably right.”

The words hang heavy in the air, but I force a lighter tone. “Don’t let it get to your head, though. Later, dickhead”.

I hang up, grinning like an idiot despite everything.

If I’m going down, I’m going down laughing.

50. Should’ve Known Better

Isaac

The snow outside falls heavily.

The wind cuts like a knife, but inside the room, the fireplace crackles softly. Sergei sits across from me, trapped in his ignorance.

An empty shell of a man, ready to be filled with my truths—or rather, my lies.

I’ve made him believe I’m the only one who stayed loyal. The friend who stood by him when everyone else betrayed him.

He’s ready to swallow whatever I feed him.

Part of this is actually real, everyone else did betray him, now that they realized that they can’t use him anymore.

“Sergei,” I say in a calm voice dripping with poison, “do you remember anything from your past?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Just blurry fragments… some voices… but nothing clear.”

I smile, playing the role of the compassionate friend. “I know it hurts not to remember. But maybe it’s better that way. If you did remember… I’m not sure you could live with yourself.”

Worry flickers in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “You were ruthless, Sergei. And you know what? I don’t blame you. This world doesn’t leave room for softness. You made innocent people suffer..Including someone important…let’s call him X”

I see him frown. I didn’t use his name. I don’t trust people.

“X was the only innocent thing you ever touched. Do you know what you did to him?”

The silence hangs heavy between us. I wait for him to falter. “No,” he whispers.

“You almost made him bleed to death. For no reason. Just for your, let’s call it, amusement.”

“Well… I don’t remember,” he says, his voice breaking.

“Of course you don’t remember. Your amnesia is the only thing saving you. But you know what? The body remembers. The nightmares tell you every night, don’t they? When you wake up drenched in sweat, not knowing why?”

I watch his hands tremble. I’ve already planted the seeds.

I stand up slowly, casting one last glance at his ruined face. “Here’s some advice, Sergei. Don’t try to remember. Because if you do… you’ll discover things that even you can’t forgive yourself for.”

I walk toward the door, leaving him drowning in his guilt.

The plan worked. Sergei’s empire is in ruins.

But the biggest blow was this: I gave him an enemy he can’t fight.

Himself.

And that was enough. For Dean. And for me.

I reflect on the past 2 weeks. It wasn’t easy, but the plan worked perfectly.

First target: Sergei’s men. I knew that if they stayed in the game, there would always be someone to trace things back to me. I had to take them out, but not with blood.

I’m not Sergei.

I used his own tactics against them. I set traps with false information about “betrayals” within his network.

One by one, they turned on each other.

Many disappeared when things got dangerous, fearing retaliation. The rest ended up targeted by the authorities after anonymous reports of illegal activities.

Second target: His money and businesses. I made sure traces of financial fraud led back to accounts Sergei didn’t even remember existed.

With a little help from contacts I had acquired over time, the accounts were frozen.

His transactions collapsed like a house of cards.

Final target: Sergei himself. I made him believe that everyone had betrayed him. I planted false memories of crimes he never committed but were convincing enough to haunt him. His face… was filled with terror. He didn’t know who he was anymore. No one trusted him, not even his own men.

I raise my glass and take a sip of my drink.

I’m clean.

No blood, no traces, no comebacks.

Sergei is a ghost that no one will remember.

His empire dismantled from within. His men vanished or sidelined.

As for me?

I’m finally free.

And most importantly, Dean is safe.

The Moscow airport is packed, but I feel lighter than ever.

I sit in the lounge with a coffee in hand, watching people rush past me.

No one knows what I’ve done. No one knows that I just dismantled Sergei and every trace of his empire.

My flight is announced over the speakers. I stand, toss the empty cup in the bin, and walk toward the gate.

I don’t look back. I don’t need to anymore.

I sit by the window, my body sunk into the airplane seat, but my mind wide awake, still tangled in everything I left behind.

The flight attendant’s voice drifts past me, talking about seat belts and emergency exits, barely registering.

I take a deep breath and pull my phone from my pocket.

I’d kept the notifications silent for hours—something I never do.

The screen lights up.

Two missed calls from Dean.

One. week. ago.

My heart skips a beat.

I hadn’t even noticed them.

And below the calls, two voice messages.

I picture him, his expression serious, his tone perhaps a little nervous, maybe even angry.

He doesn’t call me often without a reason, and that makes me uneasy.

Before I can tap on the first message, an announcement comes over the speakers:

“Please turn off all electronic devices. Our aircraft is preparing for takeoff.”

I hesitate for a moment.

I could ignore it, put on my headphones, and listen to whatever Dean has to say right now.

But something stops me. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from everything that happened.

Maybe it’s the freedom I’ve just earned, and I don’t want to spoil a single moment of it with new worries.

I turn off my phone, slip it back into my pocket, and lean back in the seat.

I look out the window, where the first snowflakes cover the runway. The engines begin to roar, and the plane trembles as it takes position for takeoff. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

Poor Sergei, you should’ve known better than to lay a finger on him.

51. Open The Door NOW!

Dean

I was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

My phone sat motionless on the table in front of me, no message, no call. Absolute silence for two weeks. And today, he was coming back.

He was coming back.

I rubbed my face with my hands and got up reluctantly.

I had made food, not just anything, but that ridiculous chicken and rice dish he kept eating because, as he always said with the tone of a fitness guru, “it’s high in protein.”

I closed the lid, letting the steam fill the kitchen.

It was ridiculous, I knew it. Maybe I wanted to pretend it didn’t matter that he had completely ignored me.

Okay, that was a lie. It did matter. It was eating me alive.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the voice messages I sent him. The things I said when I was drunk. God, I wanted to slam my head against the wall every time I thought about it.

What if he listened and got angry? What if he decided I was pathetic and ignored me for that reason?

No, he probably hadn’t even opened them. I would know.

The sound of keys at the door made me freeze. I stopped breathing.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a movement that spoke of exhaustion.

The bag slid off his shoulder and hit the floor with a heavy thud. He stood there for a moment, as if trying to find his footing. His eyes found me immediately.

He looked worn out, I could see it in every small detail of his face. His cheekbones were more pronounced, his eyes sunken with dark shadows from lack of sleep.

He wore his classic black leather jacket, and beneath it, a faded gray t-shirt that hung loosely on him.

I didn’t know if it was just the fatigue, the journey, or something heavier that he was carrying inside, but he seemed… different.

Harder, but somehow more vulnerable at the same time.

And I just stood there, unable to say a word. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

Two weeks with no contact, and now he was right in front of me.

His eyes held something I couldn’t read. Exhaustion? Relief? Anger?

And in that moment, a smile slipped out of me.

I didn’t mean for it, I didn’t expect it, but it came, despite the guilt, despite the anxiety.

A small, awkward smile that broke the seriousness of the moment.

I remembered Katie, like a sudden punch to the gut.

Her voice echoed in my head, her words, the betrayal.

I tried to ignore it, to not let the weight of guilt paralyze me.

Isaac, however, had already turned his gaze toward the kitchen. The food I had prepared was steaming on the table.

“What’s this?” he asked with genuine curiosity, looking at it as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

I froze. For a moment, my mind went blank.

“Uh… it’s mine,” I blurted out quickly, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Isaac raised an eyebrow, then let out a low laugh.

“Yours?” he said with playful doubt. “You never eat chicken breast. You say it’s too dry. Always thigh.”

My heart raced wildly. I felt flattered, ridiculously flattered, that he had noticed.

It wasn’t something I said all the time, he had just observed it from the times we’d eaten together.

I steeled myself, trying not to show how much that had shaken me.

“I changed my mind,” I said coldly, shrugging. “I like it now.”

His gaze softened. A smile touched his lips, but he didn’t press me further.

“Alright,” he said simply, letting it go.

My breath came out sharp, filled with tension.

I watched Isaac’s every small movement, desperately searching for a sign, anything that would tell me if he had listened to the voice messages.

If he had heard… those embarrassing words that never should have been said.

But I couldn’t figure anything out. His face was impenetrable, calm in a way that scared me more than anger would have.

I had no idea how to bring it up. If I mentioned it first, it would feel like admitting guilt.

Isaac unzipped his leather jacket and tossed it casually onto a chair. His gray shirt clung slightly to his skin, and I looked away quickly before he noticed.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said simply, as if nothing was wrong.

Then he turned his head toward me, his gaze relaxed, almost playful.

“Wanna come with me?”

I froze. My mind went blank with confusion and panic.

He couldn’t be serious, right? Yet his voice didn’t carry even a hint of sarcasm.

“No!” I blurted out sharply, far too loudly. My face grew hot instantly. “Don’t… don’t ever ask me that again.”

His eyes lit up with laughter, and he let out a wide, genuine smile.

“Alright, alright,” he said, grinning. “Your loss.”

My heart was racing wildly, and I wanted to yell at him for doing this on purpose, for knowing exactly what he was doing to me.

But all I did was press my lips together and watch him walk toward the bathroom with that familiar, effortless stride.

As soon as the door closed behind him, I let out a deep breath.

The problem was, I didn’t know if I was more terrified by his question or by the fact that, for a fleeting second, I wasn’t entirely sure I would have said “no.”

An hour later, Isaac had started pacing around, gathering the things he had brought with him.

I watched his body as he moved through the room. He was wearing a black sleeveless shirt that fit him so well, I almost wanted to cry.

I couldn’t help but notice his hands as he lifted his suitcase.

Every move he made, every little gesture, made me feel exposed. It wasn’t just the way he moved, it was the way his presence filled the space, the room, even my heart.

He was here, alive, and the most unsettling thing was that, whatever had happened in the past, now he was standing right in front of me, as if nothing had changed, and yet… I knew something had.

“Did you get a new tattoo?!” I said, my voice coming out louder than I had intended.

Isaac looked at his hand indifferently, as if he hadn’t even noticed it.

He shrugged his shoulders, showing his typical indifference. “Nothing escapes you,” he said in that characteristic sarcastic tone, and somehow, I felt my mind tighten.

The truth was, the tattoo had caught me off guard. A black phoenix, simple yet striking, as if it had risen from the ashes of his past and was now being reborn in front of me. I didn’t know if it had a deeper meaning or if it was just a change in himself, a move toward freedom, or a desire to leave something behind.

And I didn’t know if I wanted to know.

“I like it,” I said, my voice trying not to betray my doubts.

Isaac gave me a slight smile, that familiar, subtle smile that seemed to acknowledge everything without saying a word, as if he knew exactly how to keep me waiting without even trying.

It was like he had all the power in the room, and with every move, he reaffirmed it.

I felt my heart beat faster, an unease spreading through me. “How was Russia?” I asked abruptly, trying to hold back my nervousness.

The truth was, I didn’t want to talk about Russia. Not now, at least.

I wanted to find a way to ask about the messages, to figure out if he had heard anything.

But my words seemed to come out slowly, as if his gaze had some strange effect on me.

He just casually dropped his things and looked up at me. “Nice,” he said indifferently, “I had some time to rest. It wasn’t all that interesting.”

He spoke with the casualness that I knew so well, yet at the same time, it was so vague. But his gaze remained enigmatic.

And that’s what made me feel unsettled, I couldn’t read anything from him, nothing from his look.

I just wanted to know if he understood something or if he had heard the messages, is that so hard?!

But Isaac continued to respond with that same incomprehensible indifference, as if it was all just in the past and done with, as if there was no real interest in what was actually happening.

He was gone again.

I had been on edge the moment I stepped into the room.

I had gathered all my courage to ask him, and now there was no turning back.

“Did you get the voice messages?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracked a little.

Isaac looked at me with that annoyingly calm expression and tilted his head to the side. “Yeah… but I haven’t listened to them yet.”

I froze.

“What?” My eyes widened.

My heart started racing. “No, you don’t need to listen to them!”

Without thinking, I lunged toward him.

My hand stretched out to grab his phone, but Isaac pulled it away, laughing.

“What the hell are you doing?” he said, laughing even harder, like he was enjoying this.

“Give it to me!” I shouted, trying to snatch it from him.

But he kept me at bay, as if I were some kid throwing a tantrum.

He pushed me back, but I didn’t stop. I kept trying, over and over, with growing desperation.

“Dean, seriously!” he said, still laughing, but I was in no mood for jokes.

Suddenly, he shoved me harder, and before I knew it, I was flat on my back on the bed.

I tried to get up, but he was faster.

He sprinted toward the bathroom door and slammed it shut behind him.

“Isaac!” I yelled, rushing to the door. I pounded on it with my fists. “Open up! I’m telling you, open the door NOW!”

Silence.

My heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst. “Isaac, don’t… please, listen to me! Don’t listen to them!” I shouted, desperate.

Nothing.

From behind the door, I heard the sound of the voice message playing.

My blood ran cold.

“No…” I whispered.

I banged on the door again and again. My fists hurt, but I didn’t care. “Isaac, don’t do this!”

I was talking, but he wasn’t there. He didn’t belong to me anymore. He was alone with everything I had tried to hide.

I slumped to the floor, my back against the door. My breathing was ragged.

Suddenly, the door opened.

Oh God what have I done.

Isaac

I locked the bathroom door, slammed it shut like it could keep in the heat flooding my chest.

My hands were already shaking as I hit play.

And there it was. His voice.

Slurred, needy, raw.

… …

Oh my God.

My eyes widened as the words kept coming—filthy, desperate, honest in a way that made my skin prickle.

“You filthy, little fucker…” I muttered under my breath.

I couldn’t stop grinning. Couldn’t stop smiling like a lunatic.

My whole body buzzed with it. Like static crawling up my spine.

This wasn’t just a drunk confession. This was a damn gift.

An offering.

He laid it all out. His obsession. His lust. His fear.

I could hear him trembling through the phone.

And he had no idea what he was doing to me.

Holy shit, Dean.

My head falls back against the wall.

You’re done. You belong to me now.

You just fucking handed yourself over.

And then I thought of him. That idiot.

Lucas.

I scoffed.

Finally.

That useless fuck’s out of the way.

Took you long enough, Dean.

He had no idea. No clue that one voicemail was all it took.

That now the game had shifted—no, the balance had snapped.

I had him.

I could do whatever I wanted with him now.

Twist him up.

Break him open.

Make him beg.

Cry.

Moan.

He gave me the map to every weakness he had, and now?

Now I’m going to use it.

I’m going to ruin him.

And smile while doing it.

Make him feel everything he tried to bury.

And he’s going to thank me for it.

God , I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

Dean, you poor, beautiful idiot.

You shouldn’t have said all that.

But I’m so fucking glad you did.

52. You’re Driving Me Wild

smut warning ⚠️ ( #1 )

Dean

He opens the door and I look at him, shocked.

His hands grab my shirt so abruptly that I nearly lose my balance.

The wall behind me slams into my back, knocking the air from my lungs.

My mind scrambles to catch up with what’s happening, but I have no time to react.

His fingers wrap around my neck-not to choke me, but to pin me down.

Before I can open my mouth, Isaac’s lips crash against mine like he wants to destroy me.

There’s not a shred of tenderness. It’s raw possession, a fire igniting from the violent clash of our mouths and spreading through every inch of my body.

His hand fists in my hair so hard it jerks my head back, and then down, like he’s done waiting for me to figure anything out.

My scalp screams, but fuck if that isn’t the thing that makes my stomach drop.

My bottom lip is between his teeth before I can even breathe, and I moan into it, low and desperate, my chest ramming his.

His tongue pushes past mine, wet, messy, demanding.

I fight back, but he likes it, smiles into the kiss like it turns him on that I’m giving him resistance.

My pulse is going insane, blood pounding everywhere.

He tugs harder, forcing my head at an angle, deeper, deeper, like he wants to own my throat through my mouth.

His grip on my neck tightens, holding me in place.

His other hand slides down my back and yanks me harshly against him.

Our bodies collide, leaving no space between us.

I try to breathe, but he doesn’t give me the chance.

He gives me nothing but this ruthless hunger that scorches me.

I make a futile attempt to seize control, to flip our positions, but he’s faster.

His fingers clamp around my jaw, forcing my head up.

The kiss deepens, rougher, more relentless. Our breaths tangle, ragged and desperate.

His hand moves lower, gripping my waist with such force that I feel his fingers burn through the fabric.

My back presses even harder against the wall, but there’s no pain-only the desire that sweeps through me like a storm.

There’s only him and this brutal kiss that reminds me he won’t let me go.

I grab him with all my strength, not giving him a second to react.

My fingers dig into his arm as I pull him until he drops heavily onto the small couch that’s right next to his door.

He doesn’t lose his balance.

He sits there with that unshakable confidence he always carries, as if I put him there only because he allowed it.

I stand in front of him, my body still burning from the intensity of the kiss that left me dazed.

His legs are spread wide, leaving a dangerous space between them.

His eyes are locked onto mine, filled with a challenge that tears me apart.

I know that if I back down now, he’ll use it against me forever.

But I’m not giving him that satisfaction.

I swallow the tension swelling in my chest and sit right there, exactly between his legs.

The heat radiating from his body slams into me relentlessly.

He owns that space, sitting there with absolute dominance, but right now, I’m the one holding control.

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

I knelt down, maintaining unwavering eye contact with him, and hastily untied the drawstring of his pants.

My heart rate quickened.

Of course he was massive.

As I held his dick in my hand, anticipation flooded my mouth.

I had no intention of rushing.

No.

I wanted to savor every moment, as if I had waited an eternity for this experience.

I licked it from the base to the tip with my tongue, then I slowly put it in my mouth.

My rhythm was steady, slow at first, but I couldn’t remain restrained for long.

Passion overtook me as l licked it and sucked it with every ounce of intensity I could muster.

I opened my eyes and looked at Isaac.

His gaze was fixed on me, filled with enjoyment and something deeper, perhaps admiration or complete satisfaction.

I knew the sight had captivated him.

I licked even more provocatively, playing with my movements, wanting to make it impossible for him to look away.

A slow smile formed on his lips as he watched me.

The tension between us became almost tangible, as if nothing else existed around us - just this moment, overflowing with unrestrained passion.

His moans, holy fuck, they made me want to suck it even more.

I wanted this to be as pleasurable as possible for him.

He grabs my hair, pushing me more.

God, it was so huge I was actually trying not to choke.

But that only made me even more horny.

His gaze had something mischievous about it — like he was enjoying seeing me struggle.

“You’re driving me wild…”

“Let me do the same to you” I reply and I put his dick again in my mouth.

He threw his head back in pleasure.

It gave me chills, knowing that I was responsible for that.

I made him feel so good and I freaking loved it.

Eventually, his eyes rolled up, and his legs started shaking, and I could not enjoy this moment more than I already do.

He cums right in my mouth, and without a second thought I swallow the load of Isaac’s warm cum, licking proudly the rest from my lips.

His cheeks were now red, and my lips were too.

Isaac’s breathing was heavy, uneven, almost scorching the air between us.

Before I could say anything, his hand moved to my jaw, firm and sure, as always. He pulled me close, so close that I could feel his breath mingling with mine.

His lips found mine again, leaving no room for thought.

I melted under the weight of his desire, as if he had taken control of my entire existence.

“Guess it’s my turn now.”

“Please hurry.” I reply with zero regrets.

The doorbell rings suddenly. Isaac and I exchange a look, frozen, filled with confusion and fear.

“Oh for fucks sake, just leave us the hell alone for once!”. He shouted, even though no one could hear him.

Isaac’s expression is tense, like he’s expecting the worst. I feel my stomach tighten, wondering if I should hide, but it’s already too late.

Isaac quickly pulls up his pants and, with a swift motion, starts descending the stairs, his steps rushed. I smooth my hair back, trying to look calm, though I can feel the anxiety building inside.

Fear takes over me, and everything around me starts to feel uncertain.

Isaac reaches the door and opens it. The first thing we see are the others, standing there, beaming with excitement. Katie is there, as always, and her eyes sparkle with joy. My heart tightens in my chest as I feel all the old anxieties and insecurities coming back.

Katie looks at him and says with enthusiasm, “Welcome back, Isaac!” Her voice sounds like the start of something new, but at the same time, I feel my nerves tightening. The world around me feels like it’s spinning, and the pain of insecurity is creeping back in.

53. Did You Kiss Isaac?

Dean

Isaac opens the door, and the first thing I see is the group staring at us, excitement written all over their faces.

Mia is there, her eyes wide and strange, almost as if she’s holding her breath out of fear or unease.

Nate smiles broadly, saying something about how they came to welcome Isaac back from Russia, but his words feel distant, drowned out by the panic pounding in my head.

Katie looks at me with warm, trusting eyes, and my stomach twists into a knot.

God, what have I done?

I was looking straight into her eyes, while Isaac’s cum was probably still on my neck.

I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat doesn’t go away.

I want to disappear. To dissolve into a thousand pieces before anyone figures out what just happened.

Isaac stands next to me, relaxed, smiling.

That smile, which usually made me uncomfortable, forcing me to look away, doesn’t suffocate me now.

Instead, it forces me to face it head-on. There’s something freeing about it in a way I’d never admit aloud.

They step inside, and the atmosphere is now warm, filled with laughter and voices.

Katie sits on the couch, Nate, Mia, Liam, Aria and Adam taking their spots.

I head toward the sink, needing an escape.

Water — that’s all I can think of.

Bring everyone water.

A meaningless gesture, but it gives me a reason not to meet anyone’s eyes.

Isaac follows, standing close to me.

He smiles wide, casually, and it doesn’t bother me anymore that he’s standing so close.

Something has shifted, something I don’t want to admit but can’t ignore.

Definitely not.

I reach to turn on the tap when suddenly Mia steps between us, discreet but deliberate.

Her gaze is sharp, almost cutting, as if she knows.

As if she can see through everything.

Isaac raises an eyebrow, puzzled, but I feel myself burning with shame.

My breath catches for a second.

My voice doesn’t come out.

Just moments ago, everything with Isaac had been wild, uncontrollable, unholy.

And yet I’d felt alive, free, real. Now, under Mia’s gaze, the weight of reality crashes down on me like concrete.

Mia stands between us, like she’s claiming the space between my body and Isaac’s.

Her gaze is sharp, filled with a knowledge she shouldn’t have.

Then she whispers, slow and clear: “You had sex, didn’t you, idiots?”

We both freeze.

The air around us becomes heavy. Heat rises to my face, my ears burning.

“No, we didn’t!” I blurt out almost instantly, my voice louder than I intended.

“Yet,” Isaac adds casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

I turn to look at him, my heart starting to race uncontrollably.

There’s not a trace of shame or hesitation in his eyes.

My stomach twists from what?

Guilt? Desire?! I don’t know.

Mia raises an eyebrow, studying us like a scientist examining two peculiar test subjects.

“Then why is Isaac’s face all flushed, and why are your lips suspiciously plump?” she asks pointedly.

l open my mouth to respond, but she keeps going without pause.

“Also, why are your sweatpants untied? And why-”

“Okay! We get it! You know what happened!” I interrupt, throwing my hands up in surrender.

“It’s just not the time to talk about it, alright? And no, it wasn’t sex” I add.

Mia looks at Isaac, and he nods with a look of complete satisfaction, silently declaring that he regrets nothing.

The tension in the room thickens, but I can’t control it.

She turns back to me. “So, you didn’t have sex.”

I shake my head, unable to say anything else.

Suddenly, without warning, she starts mumbling happily to herself.

“I won the bet!” she says triumphantly.

I raise an eyebrow, completely lost. Isaac looks at her, confused.

“What bet?” he asks.

Mia grins wide. “Liam thought you would’ve done it already. I said you hadn’t yet.”

My face turns bright red again.

Isaac laughs, a deep, carefree laugh that makes me want to sink into the floor — or laugh with him, if I had the guts.

We move toward the living room.

Isaac sits between me and Katie, as if he naturally belongs right there, in the space between me and her.

Katie is completely relaxed now, her expression calm, her cheeks faintly flushed from comfort.

“Oh right, Dean!” she says suddenly, turning toward me. “About work… You didn’t get fired after all, for missing that day. You can come back when your holidays end”.

My heart tightens slightly. I look at her, confused.

“How?” I ask.

“Apparently, someone spoke to our boss Mr. Jones, and sorted things out,” she explains with a grateful tone.

“They didn’t give me all the details, but he said it wasn’t such a big deal in the end, which I found weird. I didn’t show up one day when my cat died, and he kept screaming at me for like a week. I had to show up a bunch of extra days for him to forgive me. Whoever was the person who saved you, must’ve gone through hell with him”.

“And who would do something like that?” I reply.

She laughs softly. “To mess with Jones, it’s probably someone who loves you a lot.”

My heart clenches.

“Was it Lucas?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

I look at her with a gentle, tender gaze.

“It probably was” Isaac says while smiling.

No, it wasn’t Lucas. It was Isaac, again . The man sitting beside me now, his eyes bright and comfortable, as if nothing weighs on his shoulders.

I turn toward him slowly, and he’s already looking at me. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze holds that quiet confidence, as if it was the most natural choice for him to make.

As if there’s no need to explain it.

Something inside me breaks and mends at the same time.

The fact that he did this for me without asking for even a simple thank-you, without mentioning it at all… it leaves me speechless.

I didn’t know I could feel this grateful for someone.

Liam, with his arm casually wrapped around Mia, leans forward with a wide grin.

“So, Isaac, tell us—how was Russia? Did you wrestle any bears or drink vodka straight from the bottle?”

Isaac leans back on the couch, completely at ease. His usual confidence radiates from him, filling the room.

“Well,” he says smoothly, “I did wrestle a bear once. But I was six, and it was just a freaking angry teddy bear.”

Everyone bursts out laughing.

Even Mia, who’s usually composed, hides her face in Liam’s shoulder, shaking with laughter.

“Classic,” Nate snorts. “Seriously though, what was it like over there?”

Isaac shrugs, his lips curling into a smirk. “Cold, and kind of depressing. But you get used to it. You just have to learn how to layer your clothes and your secrets properly.”

Aria laughs, rolling her eyes. “Secrets, huh? What kind of secrets did you pick up in Russia?”

“Ah,” Isaac grins mischievously, “if I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they, dummy?”

Nate shakes his head, chuckling. “This guy’s always got an answer for everything.”

“And what about food?” Mia chimes in, curiosity lighting up her eyes. “Did you eat anything weird?”

Isaac tilts his head thoughtfully. “Ever had a protein shake with broccoli inside for breakfast? grandma’s got some interesting ideas”.

The collective groan from the group is immediate.

“Gross!” Aria wrinkles her nose. “How did you survive that?”

“Strong willpower,” Isaac deadpans, earning another round of laughter.

I watch them all, feeling a warm glow settle over me.

The room is filled with easy conversation and unrestrained laughter. It’s one of those rare moments where everything just feels right.

“I managed to drink all of it because I didn’t want to make grandma sad. But holy fuck, this thing could actually end me”.

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughs.

“And proud of it,” Isaac quips, his confidence unwavering.

I can’t help but smile. This is Isaac at his best—charming, witty, and somehow always in control.

I’m leaning back on the couch, feeling a rare sense of ease, when Aria turns to Isaac with a teasing grin.

“Okay, but seriously,” she says, “if anyone here knows how to make a moment dramatic, it’s definitely you, Isaac, always . Do you ever not turn heads when you walk into a room?”

Isaac smirks, leaning casually against the armrest. “I aim to please.”

Aria laughs. “Yeah, Dean probably should take some notes.”

Mia, ever eager to jump in, waves a hand dismissively. “Please. Dean’s been turning heads too. Remember New Year’s? He even got Isaac to kiss him, which is-”

She freezes mid-sentence, her face draining of color.

…

Oh no.

The silence that follows is absolutely deafening.

Katie, who had been smiling casually until that moment, slowly lifts her gaze from her glass and looks at me.

Her eyes narrow, shifting from confusion to anger.

“What did she just say?” she asks sharply, almost demanding an answer.

I can’t speak.

“Dean,” she continues, her voice colder now,

“Did you kiss Isaac?”

The knot in my stomach tightens. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me.

I glance toward Isaac, but he keeps his gaze fixed elsewhere, calm and composed as always.

“Katie…” I start, but she cuts me off.

“I asked you a simple question. Did you kiss Isaac? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

I admit it bluntly, without hesitation. There’s no point in lying.

Katie stays silent for a moment, but the disappointment is written all over her face.

Her gaze shifts to Isaac, and then back to mine, filled with betrayal.

“I really hoped you weren’t like that,” she says coldly.

I say nothing.

Isaac just looks at her with the same calm determination he always has.

“You’re free to do whatever you want,” she continues. “But know this — I’m not part of it. I’m out of here. And don’t anyone dare follow me.”

She stands up abruptly and heads for the door.

I move to get up, but Isaac grabs my wrist, pulling me back down onto the couch.

“Don’t go,” he says quietly, almost commanding.

“But—”

“What are you going to tell her? That you regret it? That you didn’t mean it? It would all be a fucking lie.”

I grit my teeth and sink back into the couch, the weight of failure pressing down on me.

Liam exhales loudly and gets up from his seat. “Well, that was the most awkward moment of my life. Congrats, everyone.”

“Shut up, Liam,” Nate snaps, crossing his arms. “This is serious.”

“Serious? It’s just a stupid New Year’s kiss!” Liam argues. “The world didn’t end because they kissed!”

“It’s not that simple,” Adam says calmly. “Katie thought these two were just friends. It’s natural for her to feel betrayed.”

“Exactly,” Nate agrees. “It wasn’t just Isaac’s fault. You were her friend, Dean. And you did this.”

Mia suddenly speaks up, her voice shaky. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say it! It just… slipped out.”

“We know, Mia,” Isaac reassures her.

“Yeah, but now Katie’s hurt because of me.” she replies.

“No,” Nate corrects her.

“Because of those two.” His glare burns through me.

The tension hangs in the air like a heavy curtain. I have no answers.

54. It’s Not Love.

Dean

The hours pass painfully slowly.

Anxiety is eating me alive.

My mind keeps replaying everything that happened—and no matter how hard I search for regret inside me, I can’t find any.

None at all.

I don’t regret it.

What I feel for Isaac is no longer just a fleeting crush or a harmless curiosity. No.

It’s something I can’t ignore or hide behind excuses.

And as much as Isaac was right earlier, Katie deserves an explanation.

She deserves to know the truth, no matter how difficult it is.

I glance at my watch. She finishes work in two hours.

I get up abruptly from the couch and head to my room. I dress quickly, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and the first black shirt I find.

Isaac watches me from across the hall. “Where are you going?” he asks, his expression unchanged.

“I have something important to do.”

I don’t wait for a response. I grab my car keys and rush out of the house.

My thoughts race faster than the car as I drive toward her shop.

What will I say?

How will I start?

I have no rehearsed lines or smooth words to win her over.

All I have is the truth.

I pull up outside the restaurant and park hastily, stepping out of the car.

I spot her almost immediately. She’s at the register, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail.

She looks tired—I can tell by the way her shoulders slump.

I move toward her, determined.

But then she sees me. Her eyes meet mine for a moment, and something dark flashes through her expression.

I am scared of women.

Without saying a word, she changes direction. “Katie!” I call out, but she doesn’t stop.

Damn it.

I watch her walk away, her steps quick and resolute. She wants to avoid me, and I don’t blame her.

But I’m not going to let her leave it like this.

I take a deep breath and follow her, feeling our hearts racing—mine from tension, hers from anger.

She disappears into the crowd, balancing a tray with practiced ease. I sit back down at the table, frustration gnawing at my chest.

The restaurant buzzes around me, but I’m frozen, my eyes locked on the door leading to the kitchen, waiting for her to return.

Minutes pass like hours. I don’t move. I just wait.

Eventually, Katie steps back into the room, wiping her hands on a towel.

Her eyes meet mine, sharp and unreadable. She hesitates for a moment, then approaches with careful, measured steps.

“You’re still here?” she asks, her voice flat.

“I need five minutes,” I say firmly.

“You get three.”

Fair enough.

She crosses her arms, waiting. No small talk. No preamble.

“The night we kissed,” I start, not wasting a second, “that wasn’t a mistake.”

Her eyes widen with disbelief, then narrow in fury. “You came all the way here just to tell me that?”

Her voice cuts through me, sharp and bitter. But I press on, my voice steady despite the weight in my chest.

“No. I came here because you deserve the truth, Katie. You’ve always been honest with me, and I owe you the same, even if it makes you hate me.”

She doesn’t say anything, but her silence demands more.

“When it happened, I didn’t know what it meant,” I continue. “I thought it was just a moment—a stupid, impulsive thing I’d regret the next morning. But I didn’t regret it. Not for a second. And that’s when I realized I was in trouble. Because Isaac isn’t just… anyone to me.”

I exhale sharply, trying to find the right words.

“I notice everything about him. The way he carries himself, like nothing in the world can shake him. But I’ve seen those cracks, Katie. I’ve seen the weight he carries and how damn strong he is for surviving it. And I can’t help but admire that. He even makes me want to learn Russian, just to understand the stupid memes he’s always laughing at..”

I pause, my chest tightening.

“When I’m around him, I don’t feel lost. And that’s super rare for me. Most of the time, I’m a mess, you know that. But with him… everything makes sense. Even the chaos.”

Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t speak.

“I didn’t come here to rub it in your face or hurt you. I came because I respect you too much to let you hear rumors without knowing the whole truth. And if that makes you hate me, then fine. I’ll take it. But I needed you to know.”

The weight of my words lingers in the air between us.

Katie’s shoulders shake, and before I can fully register what’s happening, tears spill down her face. She turns her head away, trying to hide it, but it’s too late.

She’s actually crying.

I blink, caught off guard. “Katie?!”

Yes, I’m definitely scared of women.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Katie I didn’t think it would be so difficult for you to h-”

“You love him.”

Katie’s voice cuts through the air like a blade. My brain stalls, and I just stare at her, completely thrown off.

“What?” I manage, my voice hoarse with disbelief.

“You love Isaac,” she repeats with a strange calmness, her eyes steady. “And I got in the way without even realizing it.”

“No,” I blurt out, shaking my head. “It’s not—no, Katie, it’s not love. I don’t think so. That’s not what this is.”

“Dean,” she interrupts, her voice sharp, “shut up for once. It’s obvious.”

I freeze, caught off guard by her directness. The conviction in her voice makes my throat tighten, but I can’t argue with her—not really.

There’s a long pause between us before I gather enough courage to ask, “Do you still want to talk to me after all this?”

She looks down, thinking. My chest tightens at the possibility that she might walk away for good. But then she looks back up and nods.

“Of course I do, you piece of shit” she says quietly.

Relief washes over me, but before I can respond, she hesitates, chewing her bottom lip.

“Actually… listen. But don’t get mad…”

I look at her confused.

“…maybe this whole thing with Isaac, made me realize something, too.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

Katie lets out a nervous laugh. “Maybe my heart’s somewhere else, too.”

I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing.

“Katie…Please for the love of God…Tell me you’re not talking about that scumbag who delivers food in the morning and cocaine at night,” I say, my voice sharp with disbelief.

Her cheeks flush as she smiles shyly.

“Goddamn it, Katie!” I exclaim, throwing my hands over my face in sheer exasperation. “I thought we were done with that guy! Why the hell is he back?!”

She shrugs sheepishly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mutter, shaking my head. “This is a nightmare.”

Katie laughs, light and unbothered, then gestures toward the door. “Come on, Dean. Let’s go out so I can tell you everything.”

Despite myself, I grin. “Fine,I’ll sit here for three hours listening to you talk about the guy who’s probably spent more time behind bars than in his own home. Thanks for understanding where I’m coming from,” I say sincerely.

She smiles back warmly and pulls me into a hug.

“You’re not so bad, Dean,” she teases softly.

I chuckle as I hug her back. “Yeah, just please don’t expect me to go easy on your questionable taste in men, what the actual fuck”.

55. “Three Words…”

Dean

It’s been two days since I talked to Katie.

Two days since…Isaac and I came closer .

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

It keeps playing over and over in my head, like a broken record.

His mouth on mine, his hands gripping me, the feel of his body — all of it etched into me like something l’ll never forget.

The past few days have been agonizing.

Every time we crossed paths in the house, the air felt unbearably charged. The slightest interaction - a glance, the sound of his footsteps, twisted my stomach into knots.

And yet, neither of us said a word.

Something had shifted, and we both knew it. His silence was wrecking me. But worse was the way he looked at me when he walked past.

That confident, provocative gaze, as if he was waiting for me to break first.

And maybe I wanted to.

Maybe I was begging for him to make a move.

But he didn’t.

I tried to hold myself back, at least until I think about…some stuff.

But damn it… my body didn’t care.

I wanted him still, more than ever.

Every breath, every glance, every silent moment with him made me want to lose control all over again.

And I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.

I step into my room and shut the door behind me with force, as if that could keep out everything that’s been tormenting me. I let out a heavy breath and glance at my desk.

The half-finished architectural model waits for me, surrounded by scattered materials: cardboard, glue, cutters, tiny wooden pieces.

I start gathering everything with mechanical motions, trying to bring some order to the chaos.

Maybe if I keep my hands busy, my mind will settle. But I already know it’s useless.

My head is filled with Isaac — his gaze that haunts me, the way my body reacts to even the slightest presence of him.

I sit in my chair and take a deep breath.

I press the pencil to the paper and begin sketching lines, straight, curved, structures that are supposed to make sense. But nothing comes out right. My hand trembles slightly.

I erase, redraw, and erase again.

Damn it. I can’t focus.

His face while he was finishing is still there, imprinted in my mind as if it’s never going to leave.

I grip the pencil tightly and try again.

One line. Then another.

More carefully this time. At least let me create something right, if I can’t fix anything else.

The door behind me creaks softly. I freeze. I take a deep breath and turn my head slowly.

Isaac is standing there, his hands resting on top of the doorframe, his arm muscles flexing with the movement.

Holy sweet mother of mercy.

He wears that familiar smile, part cocky, part provocative.

The heat rushes to my face, and I can’t hold it back.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual, but it only comes out fake.

“Hey,” he replies, softly.

I turn back to my work, pretending to focus.

The pen trembles a little in my fingers. My heart is pounding wildly, like it’s trying to break through my ribs and burst out of my chest.

I can hear his footsteps behind me, slow as if he’s savoring this little torturous moment.

I glance at the words in front of me, but I don’t see anything.

The only thing I feel is his presence, like burning metal in the air.

The movement stops. I see him in the reflection of the mirror across from my bed.

He’s standing there, shirtless.

His skin shines under the city lights filtering through the window.

Every move he makes seems designed to break me.

He lifts his arms and flexes his muscles in front of the mirror. His biceps tighten, his neck strains.

A laugh slips out of my mouth before I can hold it in.

“Seriously? You’re such a show-off,” I tease him.

He turns his head toward me, his smile even more intense.

“Can you blame me?”

I want to say something clever, but my tongue sticks. I turn back to my work, trying to find myself again.

“Whatever, do your thing,” I say, pretending to be indifferent.

But the truth is, I’m fighting every freaking fiber of my being to stay in my seat.

Isaac hasn’t stopped wandering around the room, as if nothing else matters to him except provoking with every movement.

His gaze scans the space, constantly focusing on useless objects, forgotten mug, a book tossed on the desk, pictures of Alex and me.

He examines them all with interest, as if they’re important.

Every move he makes, every word, every glance, is like nothing is by chance. He’s making me lose focus with everything he does.

“This mug, do you ever use it, or is it just for you to look at?” he asks, casually tapping the mug on the edge of the desk.

“You don’t have to pretend like you actually care about stuff like that” I replied and I laughed.

Then, he slowly walks toward the bed, stopping a little closer to me, his gaze still fixed on me.

My heart pounds harder with every step he takes.

But when he gets closer, when he stands so near me that I almost feel his breath next to mine, that… that familiar sensation takes over me.

Isaac is standing over me now, almost touching me with his body.

His scent, so familiar and so freaking addictive, envelops me like a cloud, and I can feel my chest tightening.

His voice is calm, but the tension in his words is clear. “For how much longer are we going to pretend like you didn’t have my dick in your mouth, two days ago?”

His words hit me like a freaking punch to the gut.

My mind blanks for a moment. I wasn’t ready for this .

I clench my lips and freeze the moment. My breath becomes heavy. I can’t hide.

My mind is buzzing with tension, but the truth is, I can’t deny how much that moment affected me.

I stay silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say, whether I should say anything at all.

Isaac stands there, still, his gaze fixed on me, right in front of my face.

“I’m not pretending,” I finally say, my voice weaker than I wanted it to sound, but I continue, “I’m not avoiding you, nor am I denying what happened.”

His gaze lights up, as if he’s satisfied with my response.

He smiles at me, and without saying a word, he sits down next to me.

As I work, I can feel his eyes on me, so close that his gaze almost touches me.

Every movement he makes is deliberate. Every time his eyes meet mine, there’s an odd tension filling the space.

He’s so quiet, but his presence is so strong that it’s impossible not to notice it.

Every time I try to focus on my work, all I can feel is the intensity of his body beside me.

The slightest shift of his body with his legs, his gaze never leaving me, his breath almost wrapping around me. His scent.

I can’t get away from him. I don’t know what to do with the feelings overwhelming me.

I just sit there, trying to make it seem like my body isn’t reacting to his every move.

The atmosphere in the room has changed, and I know Isaac’s next move will make me lose my composure. I don’t need to say anything, his gaze is enough.

I don’t want him to drive me crazy, but as he starts taking my things, placing them slowly in his hands, I feel a sense of unease overtake me.

First the pencil, then the book I left on the shelf…

“Isaac, don’t do this,” I say, trying to maintain my composure.

My voice comes out sharper than I wanted, but it’s clear that what’s happening right now makes me uneasy.

I can feel the tension building, and part of me is glad I have the courage to say it.

“What should I not do?” he replies with that damn smile of his.

His voice is calm, playful, and it’s the most dangerous thing in the world for me right now.

“Don’t be so serious, Dean.”

Suddenly, my phone is in his hands.

What the hell?

The world around me goes blurry, and the only thing I can hear is my heart pounding so loudly it hurts.

My whole body freezes, and a wave of panic hits me.

If he sees the messages with Katie, if he sees what we’ve talked about regarding him…

I lunge forward, reaching quickly, hoping to grab it from his hands.

But he’s fast.

He pulls back with a teasing movement, as if he knows exactly what l’m doing.

I struggle to get it back, but it’s right there, between our hands.

I feel his touch in every movement, every step he takes. The sensation of his body next to mine is electric.

We can’t stop being so close.

His breath brushes against my neck, and that contact is enough to send me spiraling with every passing second.

I throw myself at him again, putting all my strength into grabbing it, and for a second, I catch it, but then he pulls me back in the next instant.

The sensation of his body against mine paralyzes me, and the more I try to regain control, the more I feel myself wanting him in every inch of my body.

With a playful grin, he lets me try again.

And this time, he grabs me and throws me onto the bed.

I hear the pillow hit my body as I land, and I realize I can’t move.

His hands are on mine, and my skin trembles with his touch.

The feeling of his hands holding me, keeping me immobile, is stronger than I expected. I have no strength left to move, and I can’t escape.

Isaac looks at me, his eyes locking onto mine, and I’m frozen.

The tension is unbearable.

My breath catches, and all I can feel is the energy filling the air, the adrenaline flooding my body.

His next move is slow, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

He inches his face closer to mine, so close I can feel his breath on my neck.

The tension climbs, and all I can do is swallow, admit that I want him.

His lips don’t touch mine, but they’re so close they freaking burn.

He slowly bites my bottom lip, but refuses to kiss me.

My skin ignites with the need for him.

“Stop,” I say, my voice coming out pleading. “Please.”

Isaac moves in closer to my ear, his gaze filled with challenge.

“Three words..”

He whispers, a smile playing on his lips with a sense of playful defiance.

“Say it, and I’m all yours, Clark.”

He leaves me there on the bed, unable to move.

He stands up and walks toward the door with a casual, graceful air. “I’m going to the gym. Have a good study session,” he says, throwing me a crooked smile.

I have no idea what to say or do.

The only thing I know is that the tension he’s left behind is something I won’t be able to handle for much longer.

56. If I Were You

Dean

The weekend had finally arrived, and I felt that childlike excitement I always get when there’s something to look forward to.

Alex was going to stay with me for 2 days, and although I hesitated at first to ask Isaac if he’d be okay with it, he seemed to want it even more than I did.

It surprised me how easily he agreed. Maybe he just wanted good company at the house.

I stopped outside our place. He stepped out, smiling with a bag over his shoulder, ready for a little getaway.

I didn’t get out to greet my dad, I knew I’d see the same scene again and get annoyed.

I didn’t want to ruin my mood.

“Ready?” I asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“Ready! Will Isaac be home?” he asked casually.

I glanced at him for a moment before focusing back on the road. “Uh… obviously. It’s his house.”

“Yeah, yeah, right.”

“So, is he still with that girl?”

I smiled awkwardly. “No, he’s not.”

A brief silence followed, but I didn’t let him continue. “Forget about Isaac now. We’re here.” I turned into the driveway and stopped in front of the entrance. “Let’s go inside.”

I wanted this weekend to be carefree. No overthinking, no complications. But with Alex around, you never really know.

The house is quiet, the kitchen bathed in the afternoon light slipping through the half-open curtains.

I grab two glasses and motion for him to sit at the table. Alex sits across from me, his feet barely touching the floor.

He looks younger than his thirteen years.

“How are things at home?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

His expression darkens for a moment, as if he’s not sure whether he wants to answer. But he speaks eventually.

“Okay, I guess,” he says in a tone that tries to sound indifferent but doesn’t quite manage it. “Dad… he’s gone a lot.”

I know what that means. I try not to show it.

“And that girl of his, Sophia? You getting along?”

He smiles a little. “Yeah. I see her more than dad does.”

The silence that follows is heavy. I take a sip of water, waiting for him to continue.

“But yesterday… something weird happened.” He leans slightly forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I came back from school and found the front door open. I went inside, and… there was no one there. I thought we got robbed.”

“What happened?” I ask sharply, feeling tension gather at the back of my neck.

“I found dad asleep on the couch with his shoes still on. And the TV was broken. I don’t know how that happened. But… the whole house smelled awful, like burning or… something worse.”

My throat tightens. “And what did you do then?”

“I took out the trash, opened the windows… Then I locked the door.”

I try not to show how much this worries me. A thirteen-year-old shouldn’t have to deal with stuff like this.

As Alex starts talking, I feel a weight pressing on my chest.

His words are simple, without unnecessary embellishments, but each one hits like a punch.

The front door of the house left open. Our dad asleep on the couch with his shoes still on. The TV smashed. The smell — disgusting, as he described it.

I keep my face neutral, but inside there’s a storm brewing. I want to get up, walk into that house, and fix everything.

Make sure Alex never has to face situations like that again. But I know it’s not that simple. I can’t suddenly become his savior.

A thirteen-year-old shouldn’t have to open windows to air out the house or wonder if they’ve been robbed. He shouldn’t be cleaning up an adult’s mess. I clench my jaw, holding back the anger rising in my throat.

And the worst part is that he talks about it as if it’s normal.

Like he’s used to it.

The calmness in his voice unsettles me more than anything else. I think about how many times he’s had to set things right on his own.

How many times he’s played the role of the adult because no one else was there to do it.

I want to tell him it’s not fair.

That it’s not right. But I know my words won’t change anything.

Before I can figure out what to say, the front door bursts open.

“Alex!”

Isaac’s voice cuts through my thoughts, filled with excitement.

Alex jumps up from the chair as if he’s no longer carrying any weight.

For a moment, he looks like the kid he should always be — smiling and carefree.

When I see Alex looking at Isaac with that same childlike smile he always has, I can’t help but laugh a little.

“How was Russia?” he asks, his tone full of curiosity and a bit of teasing.

Isaac, clearly amused by the question, smiles and looks at Alex, but doesn’t get a chance to answer before Alex, almost immediately, fires off the question that suits him perfectly:

“Did you bring any babushka dolls for me?” he says, with a playful tone.

The question, coming from Alex the way it does, is completely unexpected and makes me grin as I watch Isaac.

I know it’s Alex’s way of lightening the mood, but also making it a bit more playful.

Isaac laughs right away, and his expression says he was expecting that joke. “Well…I didn’t think of that, but…”

Isaac takes a moment to look at him, then, with a gleam in his eyes, says, “…You know, I noticed how carefully you were drawing the tattoos last time. I can recognize an artist when I see one. So…”

Isaac pulls something out of his bag and places it in front of Alex. There’s a case, filled with drawing tools. Alex’s eyes go wide with surprise, and he almost can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“But… this is…” he says, looking at Isaac like he can’t comprehend what just happened. “How…?”

Suddenly, his expression shifts. He grows serious, and with complete sincerity, says something that leaves me speechless.

He takes a deep breath.

“If Dean doesn’t take you, can I?”

His words are so sharp and genuine that Isaac bursts into laughter. He didn’t expect that from him, and neither did I.

Isaac’s laughter fills the room, uncontrollable, as if it’s a release from all the tension that had built up until that moment.

Alex’s line is funny, but it also reveals something I hadn’t fully realized.

“I’m going to buy a few things I need. Want to come with me?” Isaac asks, tossing his keys in the air and catching them effortlessly.

“I’m in!” Alex says immediately. “I went to my grandparents recently, and they gave me some pocket money.”

“Don’t waste it,” I tell him seriously. “Save it for emergencies.”

Alex looks at me, completely unfazed. “If I don’t spend it, our dad’s just going to take it anyway to buy a bottle of wine. So I might as well spend it now on whatever I want.”

I freeze. I glance at Isaac, but he has that look of not quite understanding what’s going on.

Alex’s words hang in the air, heavy. Isaac catches on but doesn’t ask anything further.

Shame burns in my chest. Alex had just thrown his truth out there like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It’s not.

“Let’s go,” I say simply, and we start putting on our shoes.

Alex heads upstairs to grab something from his bag. Isaac looks at me intently.

I feel awkward.

“…Everything okay with Alex at home?” he asks calmly.

“Not for much longer, from what I can see,” I admit, my voice heavy. “And I don’t know what to do.”

Isaac stares ahead thoughtfully.

“Ready!” Alex calls from the stairs, approaching cheerfully.

Isaac opens the door, and we step outside.

“How are we getting there?” I ask.

Isaac nods toward a huge black car gleaming under the sunlight.

Alex freezes. “Is that…?”

“We’re going shopping in a Rolls-Royce?! Are you crazy?!” I ask.

“Why not?” Isaac replies calmly.

We approach the car.

The tinted windows and chrome details make it look like a royal chariot.

We get inside.

The fresh, clean scent fills the space. The seats are soft, wrapped in smooth leather, and the controls look almost futuristic.

Alex can’t stop looking around.

“Dude, you’re unbelievable,” he says. “You have everything, don’t you? Fancy car, money, style… If I were you, I’d feel like a king.”

Isaac glances at Alex through the rearview mirror, but his eyes lock on me for a moment.

“I don’t have everything,” he says simply.

His voice is calm, but something in his gaze makes me feel a tension I wasn’t expecting.

He’s saying it to Alex, but it’s aimed at me.

“Really? What are you missing?” Alex asks innocently.

Isaac doesn’t answer. He just looks straight ahead, a faint smile tugging at his lips. That smile makes my skin tingle — it’s like he’s hiding something no one else sees.

“Ready?” he says finally, starting the engine.

The car hums smoothly as it pulls away.

I look out the window, but my mind is stuck on how Isaac can say so much without saying anything at all.

57. I’m In A Good Mood

Dean

Isaac parks with perfect precision.

We step out of the car, and the noise of the crowd hits me immediately.

People rush around carrying bags, while colorful shop signs and the strong scents of food surround us.

“You do remember that we also need to buy rice, potatoes, and fruits, right?” I remind him.

Isaac smiles, completely calm. “Everything will get done in order. Don’t worry.”

We walk down a narrow street filled with small shops. People chat, laugh, or stand in front of displays, examining products.

Suddenly, I stop abruptly. “Wait here!” I tell them and dash into a bookstore.

I hear their footsteps behind me, they decided to follow me inside after all.

The place smells like paper and wood. Shelves filled with books stretch in every direction, but my eyes go straight to the stationery corner.

I head there and start searching frantically.

I pick up pencils, check the numbers on the tips, and put them back down, disappointed.

Isaac approaches, hands in his pockets. “What are you looking for?” he asks calmly.

“A specific pencil,” I say, still scanning the shelves. “I’ve been using it since my first year in college, but it’s almost impossible to find. Whenever I do, it’s always sold out.”

“What makes it so special?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“The way it writes… and how it grips the paper,” I explain without thinking much. “It’s perfect for fine details. No other pencil writes like it.”

Isaac looks at me in a way that makes me feel understood, and that surprises me.

Isaac

Dean suddenly widens his eyes, his entire face lighting up. I can practically feel the excitement radiating from him.

“Did you find it?” I ask, amused.

He grins proudly, holding up a pencil as if it’s the Holy Grail.

“Only getting one?” I tease casually.

Dean hesitates but then grabs a second pencil, clearly reluctant. “I’ve only brought enough money for the stuff we actually need,” he explains firmly before walking away from the shelf.

I watch him march toward the checkout counter, completely focused on his mission. Alex and I follow behind him, quietly observing as he pays for the pencil and starts toward the exit.

I step forward to the register, catching the cashier’s attention.

I open my hand and dump a whole handful of those same pencils onto the counter.

The cashier raises a brow, clearly puzzled.

“I draw a lot,” I explain with a playful grin. “What can I say?”

The cashier lets out a faint laugh and rings them up.

I take the pencils, thanking him, and head outside to where Dean and Alex are waiting.

“Where to now?” Alex asks eagerly, glancing around the bustling market street.

I think for a moment. “How about we buy a ton of food and watch a movie tonight, all together?”

Alex’s face lights up. “I’m in!”

Dean smirks slightly but says nothing, which I take as his version of agreeing.

We start walking down the lively street, the air filled with the mingling smells of spices, fresh produce, and street food. A slight breeze rustles the signs hanging over shop entrances.

I glance down at the bag of pencils in my hand. Dean doesn’t say anything about it, but I catch the faintest shake of his head as if silently amused.

We walk along the street, Dean beside me with his arm draped casually over Alex’s shoulders.

Alex, however, barely notices.

His eyes are glued to a girl standing behind a small stall, selling handmade crafts.

I follow his gaze. “Who’s that?” I ask, curious.

“She goes to my school,” Alex explains without taking his eyes off her. “Her family’s… pretty poor.”

I glance at the simple but charming setup of the stall—bracelets, keychains, and small trinkets neatly arranged.

Without thinking much, I make my way toward her.

The girl looks up as I approach, her expression cautious but polite. “Everything’s 1 dollar each,” she says softly.

I pick up a bracelet, inspecting it closely. “You’re selling these way too cheap,” I tell her honestly. “They’re really well made.”

She blinks, unsure how to respond.

I pull out 100 dollars from my wallet and hand it to her. “I’ll take 3.”

Her eyes widen.

A smile breaks through her surprised expression. She quickly starts packing the items into a bag, her hands moving a bit nervously.

Once she hands it to me, she pauses.

“Wait,” she says, grabbing a piece of paper and sketching something quickly.

Before giving it to me, she hesitates. “What’s your name, Sir?”

“Isaac,” I reply.

She hands me the paper—a simple drawing of a stick figure version of me, grinning.

I can’t help but smile. “Thanks, love. This is great.”

“No, thank you ,” she says earnestly.

I turn back toward Dean and Alex, who are both staring at me with their mouths hanging open.

“What?” I say, shrugging casually. “I’m in a good mood today.”

Dean snorts, shaking his head, and Alex just grins.

“Now come on,” I say, waving them forward. “Let’s go get that rice and those potatoes.”

It’s eight in the evening when we step back into the house.

Alex collapses onto the couch, exhausted, and I follow suit, sinking into the armchair opposite him. My legs ache, and I can feel the weight of the day in my body.

“I’m starving ,” Dean says, standing near the door like he’s ready to sprint to the kitchen.

“Get up, both of you. Let’s get everything set up so we can eat and watch a movie. I have studying to do afterward.”

Alex groans dramatically. “Dean once almost missed his own birthday party because he was too busy studying,” he tells me, shaking his head like it’s the most tragic tale ever told.

I laugh, leaning back. “Seriously? When’s his birthday?”

Dean’s voice cuts in from the kitchen. “I’m literally right here. You could just ask me yourself.”

“Alright, Dean,” I call back, smirking. “When’s your birthday?”

“January 18th, 2003,” he says flatly. “Why? Planning to throw me a party?”

“Does it bother you that I just want to know my roommate’s birthday?” I shoot back.

Dean snorts. “A little.”

“When’s yours, then?” he asks, stepping back into the room with a bag of chips already open.

“November 14th, 2001,” I reply casually.

Dean stops chewing, narrowing his eyes at me. “Wait—hold on. I was here then. How come you never told me it was your birthday?”

“It just didn’t come up,” I say with a shrug, brushing it off.

Dean looks genuinely disappointed, which catches me off guard for a moment.

I stand up, stretching my arms. “I’m gonna take a shower. You guys get ready too. We’ll watch in my room—the big TV’s there.”

Alex grins lazily. “This is why it’s good to have a rich roommate.”

Dean mutters something under his breath about Alex being easily impressed, and I shake my head, heading for the stairs.

30 Minutes later

The door to my room opens, and Dean walks in with his hair still wet and wearing a loose black t-shirt.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks around, almost like he’s assessing the situation.

“I set up an extra blanket on the bed so the food doesn’t stain the bed,” I tell him, watching his stance. “Are you proud of me?”

He looks at me for a moment, confused, and then laughs a little. “Even if we ruined it, I wouldn’t care.”

I don’t say anything, but the intensity in my gaze makes him turn away, like he’s trying to escape.

I like it.

“What?” I ask calmly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pretending to be annoyed, but I know he enjoys it.

I loved it.

“Can’t help it,” I reply with a bit of irony.

“Where’s Alex?”

“He’s coming out of the shower now,” he says, looking around the room.

He pauses, as if thinking of something. “I’ve come into this room twice for reasons other than cleaning, and neither went well. One time, I don’t even remember what happened because you got me drunk, and the other time, I found the envelope.”

His voice gets more serious this time. “I have to admit, I’m scared to come in here again.”

I smile and lean back on the bed, putting my hands behind my head. “I can help you have good memories of this room. All you have to do is ask.”

Just as he was about to speak, Alex’s voice cut through the moment from the hallway. He walked in, holding the bag with the food we bought. “What are we watching?” he asks, glancing at us.

I shrug and casually leave it up to them to decide. “I don’t know. You guys choose.”

“I’ll go with horror,” Dean says, and Alex agrees right away.

“Do you guys actually get scared by these?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, glancing at Dean.

He shoots me a side-eye. “Aren’t you?” he replies.

I shrug. “I guess I’ll give it a chance,” I say. As they settle in, I press play.

Dean and Alex lie down on the bed, and I join them, making sure we’re all lined up in a row.

Dean’s in the middle, and Alex is on one side. I feel the tension in the room, but it’s… not unpleasant.

I wonder if they’re actually scared, or if they’re just playing it up.

It’s kind of funny. Maybe I’ll enjoy this more than I thought.

1:30 Hour Later - Isaac

The movie had ended, but my words were stuck in my throat, faintly tight.

Looking at the screen, hearing the sound of it, I realized that the last thing on my mind was the film.

The room had gone silent, and as I turned my head, my eyes fixated on the scene in front of me.

Dean was asleep, his head resting on my shoulder.

He had stretched his arm across the pillow, his breathing steady and calm. A sense of tranquility flowed through me as I observed his face.

How is it possible for someone to look so… beautiful, even when they’re asleep?

It was as though he was made to be exactly like this, with a natural, unchangeable harmony that I didn’t want to disturb.

Slowly, my heart began to beat faster, in a way I couldn’t ignore.

I looked at Alex, who had fallen asleep on top of Dean, and the laugh that escaped my throat was simply to break the silence.

I felt a sudden certainty fill my soul.

It wasn’t just admiration.

It was something deeper.

I had fallen in love with Dean Clark, and I knew it now, with every cell of my body.

It wasn’t a fleeting thought or a passing feeling.

It was real, strong, pure.

And it was there, in front of me, with Dean asleep on my shoulder, and I… I couldn’t escape the feeling that was beginning to overwhelm me.

58. Beer Pong

Sunday afternoon - Dean

The room is quiet. I’m deep asleep until I hear the door slam shut.

I stir, forcing my eyes open, and see Isaac rummaging through my clothes.

Rubbing my eyes, still half-asleep. “What the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t even glance at me, continuing his search undeterred.

“I’m picking out your clothes,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I sit on the edge of the bed, still dazed. “Why?”

“We’re going out,” he announces firmly. “So let me choose for you so you won’t get tired.”

I stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he’s serious. With a heavy sigh, I flop back onto the bed.

Before I can close my eyes again, I feel his hands grip my wrists. He pulls me upright with surprising strength.

“Get up, grumpy,” he says, laughing. “You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

Cute? Seriously?

I scowl, pushing him away. “Let me pick my own clothes,” I grumble, my eyes still fighting to stay open.

I lean against the wardrobe, barely keeping myself standing.

“Where are we even going?” I ask tiredly.

“To Adam’s place. It’s his birthday,” he says enthusiastically.

“What? I don’t want to go.”

“They’ll be happy to see you. They like you.”

I glare at him skeptically, still inwardly complaining. All I want is to crawl back into bed.

But Isaac has this constant energy that always drags me along with him.

I grab the clothes from his hands and squint at him. “Why are you telling me this last minute?”

“It just came to me now to bring you along,” he says innocently, though I don’t believe him for a second.

“Now? Seriously?”

“Yeah, why not? I figured we’d have fun together.”

I give him a skeptical look. “And what makes you think I’m coming?”

“Because deep down, I know you can’t say no to me,” he says with a sly smile.

I raise an eyebrow. “Confident much, Nabokov?”

“It’s part of my charm,” he replies with that same cocky grin.

I walk into the bathroom, grumbling, still half-asleep. My eyes sting, and my hair is sticking up like I was struck by lightning in my sleep.

I splash water on my face and grab my toothbrush.

Through the mirror, I see him standing at the door.

Isaac. He’s already fresh, wearing a black t-shirt under a loose leather jacket that somehow makes him look so ridiculously hot I want to claw it right off him.

He’s looking at me, as always, like he has every right to do so.

“Doing it again, huh?” I ask, my mouth full of toothpaste foam.

“Doing what?” he asks with that infuriating smirk.

“Staring.” I rinse my mouth and glare at him.

“Aren’t you bored yet?”

“Nope.”

I turn back to the mirror and start trying to fix my hair.

My stomach tightens, but I ignore it. I want to smile, but I’m still mad that he woke me up so rudely.

“Stop flirting. It’s not working.”

“Is it not?” he asks teasingly.

“Is it not what?”

“Is it not working… just a little?”

I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response. I keep wrestling with my hair, even though I know it’s a lost cause.

“You ready now?” he suddenly asks, grabbing my wrist gently.

“No, I’m not—”

“You are.” He says it with such certainty that I can’t argue.

He pulls me out of the bathroom like we’re in some sort of race.

“I wasn’t finished.”

“You’re fine. Now to the car.”

“Isaac…” I complain, but I end up following him anyway.

This man is like a storm, there’s nothing you can do but let it sweep you away.

We get into the car.

The streetlights pass by like shadows through the windows, and the air feels charged.

We don’t talk much, but Isaac’s presence is enough to keep me alert.

When we pull up outside Adam’s house, I stare at it for a few seconds, trying to process it.

Huge, with modern lines and glass windows reflecting the night lights.

The music thumps from inside, loud and bass-heavy, while people come and go, laughing and holding drinks.

“Let’s go,” Isaac says, grabbing my wrist.

We step into the crowd, unknown faces everywhere, dancing, the smell of alcohol and something more burnt in the air.

The light from chandeliers and colorful LEDs flickers in my eyes.

Isaac doesn’t hesitate for a second, cutting through the people with purpose.

A familiar face from past hangouts approaches me, smiling. I raise my hand, ready to greet him, but I didn’t have the chance.

“Hey! I just wanted to say hi!” I shout, but Isaac pulls me away briskly, his grip still firm on my wrist.

“He’ll survive without your greeting,” he says confidently.

I shake my head, slightly annoyed but understanding—when Isaac has a goal, everything else is secondary.

Eventually, we find Adam, lounging in a corner with a group of people around him, relaxed but always carrying that aristocratic air that follows him everywhere.

Adam spots us and jumps up from his seat with a wide grin, his glass filled with something amber-colored, probably whiskey.

His cheeks are already flushed, it’s obvious he’s had more than a few drinks.

“There they are, the legends!” he shouts. “Isaac! Dean! What a pleasure!”

“Pleasure is the fact you’re still standing, you fucker,” Isaac says with that calm, dry tone, eyeing him up and down.

Adam bursts out laughing. “Come on, Isaac! I’ve got stamina, don’t mind that I’m a little… relaxed!”

“A little?” Isaac raises an eyebrow.

I smile, trying to keep things friendly. “Happy birthday, Adam. Wishing you a hundred more. And don’t mind Isaac—he’s just naturally like that. You already know it.”

“Only naturally?” Isaac interjects with mock offense.

Adam laughs again and claps me on the shoulder. “You, Dean, always the diplomat. Come on, grab a drink! Tonight’s for fun!”

Isaac gives me that familiar look. “You should probably grab a soda. One of us needs to stay sober.”

“Oh, so you’re drinking?” I tease.

“No, but someone has to say it to sound responsible,” he replies with that annoyingly confident tone.

Isaac

Dean sits across from me on the couch, calm but observant as always. Next to me, a girl with a wild vibe keeps rambling about something completely pointless—something about how the best selfies are taken in natural light. Bullshit.

I occasionally nod at her, but my focus stays on Dean.

I watch as he sets down his first and last beer, brushes off his black pants, and suddenly stands up.

Before I know it, he squeezes himself between me and the girl, who stares at him in confusion.

I almost laugh. Nice move.

“Wanna play beer pong?” he asks out of nowhere, his tone making it clear he’s already made up his mind. “Looks like my room is missing a beer-shaped trophy.”

I tilt my head slightly, eyeing him with curiosity. “You want to play beer pong?”

“Yeah?! I’m the best at it.”

I raise an eyebrow.

First time I’ve heard that.

Before I can say anything, he grabs my arm and pulls me up.

“I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to the girl,” I say, trying to sound serious.

“She’ll survive without your goodbye,” he shoots back, ironically throwing my own line from earlier right back at me.

I shake my head with a faint smile and follow him.

It’s hard not to find him entertaining.

The beer pong table is surrounded by people watching the players aim for the plastic cups on the opposite side.

The smell of beer lingers in the air, mixed with laughter and shouts echoing throughout the room.

Dean stands beside me, that strange gleam of confidence in his eyes, bordering on arrogance.

The players finish their round, and someone gestures toward us. “Ready? Who goes first?”

“Coin flip or center shot?” someone asks.

Dean raises an eyebrow and picks up the ball from the table. “Center shot,” he says casually.

The opposing player stands at the edge of the table across from him.

The goal is simple: whoever lands the ball closest to the center goes first.

Dean takes his position, glancing coolly at the opponent. He lifts his arm, aiming with perfect precision, and launches the ball.

The sound of it hitting dead center echoes as it lands exactly where it should.

“Told you. I’m the best,” he says with a grin that could be either charming or infuriating.

The game begins.

Dean rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing lean but strong forearms.

He picks up the ball, leans forward slightly, and aims with a steady hand.

The shot is perfect, straight into the first cup on the opposing side.

The opponent chugs his beer with a groan.

Dean smiles calmly, already grabbing the next ball. Without missing a beat, he sinks it into the next cup.

The crowd around us starts paying attention.

He keeps scoring points, his hand unfaltering.

He unbuttons the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, revealing the curve of his neck and chest. He runs his fingers through his black hair, leaving it slightly tousled.

The opponents start grumbling. “Enough already! We’re sick of drinking beer!”

Everyone laughs, and I shake my head, unable to believe what I’m seeing.

Dean remains unfazed, his gaze sharp, filled with superiority as he prepares for the final round.

All eyes are on his hand.

The ball flies through the air, landing straight into the last cup.

It hits the rim, spins, and falls right in.

The room erupts into cheers. A group jumps on Dean, celebrating as if they just won a championship. He laughs calmly, as though he knew this was coming all along.

And at that moment, I can’t help but admit it — that effortless confidence of his, turned me on.

Dean shouts over the music, his voice barely cutting through the thumping bass. “Did you see that?”

I lean closer, raising my voice to match his energy. “I saw it! That was hot.”

He flashes me that smug, proud grin. “Everything’s hot to you,” he teases.

I don’t deny it. Why would I?

Still riding high on his victory, Dean flicks the plastic trophy in his hand like it’s some priceless prize. “Out of all the things in the world,” I say, shaking my head with a smirk, “beer pong was the last thing I thought you’d be good at.”

He laughs, that lopsided grin making an appearance. “Had to learn a while ago,” he admits, casually but with a hint of something deeper, “wanted to impress my dad for once.”

The smile fades from my face, replaced by something darker.

The conversation we’d had at the house with Alex flashes through my mind, the weight Dean carries but never talks about.

I hate that it’s always there, lurking in the corners of his victories.

“You wanna talk about it?” I ask, my tone low, steady.

He shakes his head almost immediately. “Not now,” he says firmly. “I’m a winner tonight, remember?” He lifts again the cheap plastic trophy, with mock grandeur.

I laugh despite myself. “Yeah, champion of beer pong. Truly an achievement for the ages.”

Dean laughs too, and for now, I let it go.

59. I Need You

smut warning ⚠️ ( #2 )

Isaac

Adam stumbles towards us, his eyes glassy from the alcohol, a dumb grin plastered across his face. The music keeps pounding through the room, but all I hear is his voice cutting through the noise with nonsense.

“I can’t believe it, man!”

He shouts, pointing at Dean as if he’s made some groundbreaking discovery. “You? Winning at beer pong? Who would’ve thought… I figured you were just a good-looking loser!” He laughs loudly, completely unaware of how heavy his words are.

I see Dean clenching his jaw, but he doesn’t say anything. The awkwardness is clear on his face.

But I don’t have that kind of patience.

I approach Adam slowly, my eyes locked on him. My movements are calm, almost casual, but there’s a tension in the air around me. “Cut it out,” I say.

Adam laughs nervously and takes a step back, almost frightened.

But he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Come on, man, don’t freak out. I didn’t say anything bad. Sorry Dean…I guess…It’s just…I’m not sure if what you’re doing is actually impressive or just another attempt to show you have something to offer beyond just your… looks.”

My blood freezes, and before I even think, my fist connects with his face.

A deep, satisfying punch that makes him stumble.

Dean grabs my arm abruptly. “What the hell are you doing?” he yells, his eyes filled with shock and anger.

Adam gets up slowly, touching his cheek in disbelief.

A moment passes before he tries to hit me back, but he does it so clumsily that he almost trips.

I dodge the punch easily and shove him again, this time harder.

“We’re leaving,” I say to Dean, not even sparing Adam a glance.

Dean keeps firing questions at me as we head toward the car. “What the hell was that? Why did you do that?” His voice is filled with confusion and disappointment.

Adrenaline still courses through my veins, and my hands burn from the punch.

I don’t answer.

I’m trying to calm down, to suppress the dark feeling that overtook me.

It wasn’t just his words—it was the fucking audacity. I rub my eyes and immediately start driving.

2 Hours Later - Dean

Isaac’s door is closed. My mind is boiling with anger.

I have no idea why I’m doing this now, but reason has long gone out the window. I bang on his door, hard.

No response.

“I know you’re awake, open up!” I shout.

There’s the click of the doorknob, and the door swings open abruptly.

Isaac stands there, his gaze cold.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, there’s plenty!” I push past him, slamming the door shut behind me. “Why did you do it?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t!” I snap, my voice rising. “I’m not some helpless kid who needs defending!”

“He talked to you like you were trash, Dean!” he yells, stepping closer. “Someone had to put him in his place!”

“It wasn’t your job!”

“It was!” His voice trembles with intensity. “Don’t you get it? Someone had to do something! Did you want to hear more?”

“I’m not yours to protect!” I shout, bitterness dripping from my words.

“I didn’t ask you for anything! Plus, he is your friend. And he was just drunk!”

His face flushes with rage. The distance between us has nearly vanished.

“You’re so fucking possessive, Isaac.”

“And you’re so fucking stubborn!” he yells back.

“Yes because I love you and I wouldn’t-”

…

Oh shit.

The sentence hangs between us, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Isaac freezes, his eyes widening.

My eyes meet his.

He is staring at me like the ground has just vanished beneath his feet.

His expression is indescribable, his brows furrow slightly, his lips parted, like he’s trying to find words that don’t exist.

He says nothing. He just looks at me, his gaze fixed on mine, both warm and weighty at the same time.

My breath catches when that slow, mischievous smile spreads across his lips, bold, full of confidence.

Before I can say or do anything, his fingers wrap around my neck, pulling me close with a movement that leaves no room for hesitation.

And then his lips crash against mine with force.

The collision is raw, fierce.

His tongue forcing its way in before I can even catch my breath.

There’s nothing soft about this kiss, just need and frustration, as if he’s trying to conquer me and surrender all at once.

He grabs my wrists and shoves them above my head, pinning me there with one hand while the other fists in my hair, yanking until my scalp burns.

My head jerks sideways, my shoulder knocks the wall beside us, and he just follows, pressing harder, caging me in.

My mind blanks out.

Those perfect fucking lips, lips I’ve stared at a thousand times, wanting them, dreaming about them, and now they’re crushing mine, owning me.

They’re so soft but the way he uses them is brutal, biting, dragging, leaving me wrecked.

Jesus, Isaac… your mouth.

His tongue is skilled, confident, fucking relentless.

He licks into me like he knows exactly how to break me down.

I want to feel him everywhere.

“I want you,” I whisper between ragged breaths, my voice hoarse and thick with desire.

That wicked smile of his turns even more provocative.

His lips return to mine, and in the midst of the feverish kiss, he murmurs roughly, hastily: “Oh, you’ll have me. Be sure of that.”

His voice is carrying a promise that sends electricity racing across my skin.

Everything around me blurs, all that exists is him, his kiss, his hands moving over me without hesitation, demanding and sure.

I’m his, and he knows it.

I knew it too from the very beginning, but now there’s no doubt left.

Isaac

Dean’s breath is hot against my mouth, desperate, matching the wild rhythm of my pulse.

My fingers tremble slightly as they trail down his sides, feeling the tension in his body.

I grip the hem of his shirt, pausing just for a second, waiting for any sign that he wants to stop.

But he doesn’t.

His eyes dare me to continue.

So l do.

I pull the fabric up, slowly, dragging it over his chest, brushing my knuckles against his warm skin.

He lifts his arms without hesitation, and the shirt slides off, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

My gaze lingers for a second, taking in the rise and fall of his chest.

My eyes devour him in the brief moment we pause.

His hands are already on me, impatient, and I meet him halfway, shoving my own shirt off with a violent tug.

We move like animals, frantic, pulling at clothes with a desperation that mirrors everything we’ve kept buried.

His hands slip under my belt, struggling, and I curse, but it’s all heat and urgency.

My fingers join in, ripping it off faster, tearing away the last layer between us.

“I need you,” I whisper between breaths.

He looked at me with lust, fuck I want to destroy him.

I push him onto the bed, and I’m on top of him. My hands pin his wrists down, my body pressing against his.

There’s nothing gentle in the way we strip each other down, no time for anything except the need pulsing between us.

Clothes fall to the floor in a mess of fabric and urgency.

The heat between us builds, almost unbearable, as we grow closer, our bodies crashing together with a force that has everything else fading into oblivion.

My hand slowly rises, my fingers brushing against Dean’s jaw as I gently tilt it downward.

He offers no resistance, as if he had been waiting for this move.

“Spit on it,” I say, my voice low but firm. His eyes lock onto mine as he obeys without hesitation, his spit landing on my dick.

Oh my Lord.

My breath catches for a moment. The way he looks at me… it’s wrecking me.

I want to make him do it again, and again, just to see that look.

I covered my dick in lube too, and made him spread it all over.

I grab Dean’s shoulder, and with one swift motion, I flip him onto his stomach.

My fingers stay on him, a silent statement that I’m in control.

And the best part? He doesn’t seem to mind.

I slowly pushed it in him, and he buried his face into the sheets. “You can handle it” I whispered and slowly began sliding it in and out.

It felt so damn good. I went all the way in, and he tried to hold back.

“Let me hear those moans, Clark. No need to hide them”.

“Go deeper” he managed to say, and who am I not to listen?!

I accepted his command and went deeper, making him lower his head again, moaning in pain and pleasure.

I grab the front of Dean’s neck and lift his head, forcing him to look at the mirror across from us.

His breath hitches, and the look in his eyes as he faces the reflection only fuels the tension between us.

“I want you to see what I’m doing to you,” I say.

My gaze stays locked on his, watching every reaction closely.

The sound of our bodies slamming against each other, the heavy breathing… everything drove me crazy.

I am addicted to him.

I look at the mirror again, and I realize it.

Fuck.

It’s actually, finally , us.

Dean’s body open beneath mine and me slamming into him, dick buried to the base, pulling out slick and driving back in again.

The sight makes me wanna cry.

I drop my mouth to his neck, dragging wet kisses and bites over his skin, sucking hard enough to leave marks he surely won’t be able to hide.

I slam into him harder, my abs clenching, watching myself in the mirror driving into him over and over.

The view is filthy.

My dick glistens every time I pull out before I shove back in, and it makes me groan into his throat.

“You take me so good,” I pant, words rough against his skin.

“So fucking good, Dean. You were made for this.”

He tries to answer, but all that comes out are choked moans, high and broken.

His lips are struggling to form words, and I can feel his body clench around me every time he tries.

“Can’t even talk, can you?” I taunt, biting his neck again, fucking him deeper.

“All you can do is moan for me.”

“Isaac, I’m—”

“Not yet, hold on a little longer” I manage to say, even though i’m struggling myself.

But I didn’t want this to end.

I gently pull his hair back, kissing his neck as he struggles to catch his breath.

His reaction is driving me crazy.

I feel his body trembling beneath mine, and it only makes me want to push further.

“Isaac—” He moans, while shooting a load.

Hearing my name slip from his lips with a sigh, was all it took to destroy me.

In an instant, I felt the world tilt, my head spinning as fucking stars exploded behind my eyes.

My body seized up, every nerve on fire, and the intensity of the moment swallowed me whole.

My legs started shaking. I couldn’t think clearly, all I could focus on was the overwhelming pull of him, making everything else fade away.

I filled him up with my cum, and I collapsed on top of him. We stayed in that position for a while, both of us completely out of breath.

“I love you too, Clark”

60. -Butterball-

One Week Later - Dean

The past week was a wild, beautiful blur.

Sex, university, sex, food, sex, work…

…and more sex.

There wasn’t a single corner of the house that didn’t bear the mark of us.

The couch, the shower, the table, the wall.

Wherever we were, all it took was one look, one accidental touch, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

We couldn’t get enough of each other.

And somehow, every time was freaking better than the last. Maybe it was because we had waited so long, but the hunger between us was relentless, almost addictive.

With Isaac, there was no hesitation, no shame.

We were completely free to give everything we had.

And we did, with every breath, every kiss, every desperate move.

My life had become a paradise of chaos.

It wasn’t just the sex, it was the way I felt drawn into this endless vortex of pure joy.

He’d come home from work, and I couldn’t think of anything else but pulling him close.

The thought of him made me grin like an idiot.

His jokes, the way he moved, even the smallest details about him filled me up completely.

Falling for Isaac was effortless. Now that the distance between us had disappeared entirely, life felt wild, intoxicating, and exactly the way it was supposed to be.

Everything was perfect, almost heavenly, but deep down, something gnawed at me.

This couldn’t last forever. I couldn’t stay at Isaac’s place forever.

What happens after I get my degree?

And what if he decided to go back to Russia?

That possibility lingered in the back of my mind, no matter how hard I tried to shove it away.

I didn’t even know why he wanted a roommate in the first place.

He already had everything, a beautiful home, a stable job, money.

Lots of money.

What was the reason? The question kept scratching at me, but I didn’t want to bring it up.

Not now.

I decided to stay in the present, to live in this perfect, intoxicating “now.”

The doorbell snapped me out of my thoughts.

My stomach did a little flip, Isaac must’ve come back from his meeting.

I rushed to the door with a grin plastered on my face, ready to pull him inside and show him just how much I missed him, even after only a few hours.

I opened the door… and froze.

It wasn’t Isaac. It was a woman.

Tall, slender, with thick, wavy blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders.

Her skin was smooth, practically flawless, and her eyes were this piercing shade of grey-blue, just like his.

She looked confident, self-assured, and there was something very familiar about her.

My heart started pounding in my chest.

Oh, shit.

Her features…That eye shape…

Oh, shit.

She must be Isaac’s sister.

What the hell do I do now?

She didn’t even wait for me to invite her in, she just walked through the door with a confidence that caught me off guard.

Her heels clicked sharply on the floor, and her bag swung casually over her shoulder.

She looked like she belonged here more than I did.

“Isaac’s not here,” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out a bit shaky.

“That’s fine,” she replied, smiling brightly. “I’ll wait.”

Great. Just what I needed.

She’s making herself at home in the living room while I tried not to pass out.

“You must be Dean.”

“Yeah,” I answered awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck. “And you’re…”

“Vera! Isaac’s sister,” she said, extending her hand. Her handshake was firm, confident.

Oh, shit. She was just as pretty as Isaac.

I guess damn good genes ran in the family.

“So, I never got the chance to actually meet you! Do you like the place? How do you spend your time with my brother?” she asked innocently, her blue eyes studying me.

Inside my head? Panic.

We have sex. That’s how we spend our time.

“Uhhh, you know,” I said, forcing a nervous smile. “We watch movies, cook, fight for stupid things, the usual stuff.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping him company,” she said. “He’s always been a bit of a loner, you know.”

Doesn’t seem like a fucking loner to me.

I felt a bead of sweat form at the back of my neck.

If she only knew half of what we’d been up to… she’d probably kick me out of here right now.

“He told me you were a good guy,” she continued, nonchalantly.

“Can’t complain, he’s a good guy too.”

Who happens to make me forget my name.

I forced a mechanical smile, trying to keep myself calm. This conversation felt like a test, one that could make me explode at any moment.

I had to calm down.

I head to the kitchen to make coffee for Vera.

The coffee machine starts making weird noises, like it’s struggling to stay alive.

I press a few buttons, but nothing happens.

God, why now? And why me?

“Everything okay in there?” Vera calls from the living room.

“Yeah, just… this machine has issues. Sorry for taking so long,” I say. “It’s probably time to retire it.”

Vera appears at the kitchen door with a playful smile. “Why don’t you guys just get a new one? Don’t tell me Isaac can’t afford a decent coffee machine”.

I laugh. “I guess it just never crossed his mind.”

“Probably because all his money goes on food and cars,” she says with mock seriousness.

“I’ve never seen anyone eat this much of food a day. I’m starting to think he has a supernatural metabolism now”.

“I’ve thought the same,” I agree, laughing.

“The other day, when he came home late, he ate all the food I had made, by himself, and then complained he was still hungry and that I sabotaged his muscle growth by not making more”. I say frustrated.

Vera bursts into laughter. “Oh my God! You need to book him an appointment with a dietitian, or a car mechanic, since he probably changes cars more often than clothes.”

“Yeah, the car thing is wild,” I say.

“He’s probably the only person who goes grocery shopping in a car that looks like it belongs on a racetrack.”

Vera laughs so hard she leans on the counter to keep from falling over. I feel that rare, effortless ease that I didn’t expect to have with her.

“Well,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes, “you’re way cooler than I expected. Isaac warned me you were serious and kind of… organized.”

“Just say boring, it’s okay,” I joke.

“Oh no,” she says with a teasing grin.

“I prefer ‘respectably boring’. When did he say that, by the way?” I ask out of curiosity.

“Ah, long time ago. But don’t take it personally, I’m sure he likes you now. He takes his time with these type of stuff, but once he likes you, he will do anything for you, and he has showed it plenty of times. Love him for that…”

“…If he doesn’t like you though…that’s a whole different story. Just pray for this not to happen”.

We both laugh again, and this small moment of connection makes me feel like Vera isn’t just Isaac’s sister but someone I could genuinely like.

“I’ll show you something” She says with a mischievous smile.

She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her photos. “Here we go… ready to see Isaac in a completely different phase?”

“What kind of phase?” I ask, already laughing.

“A super cute one. Something he definitely isn’t anymore.”

I lean closer, and she shows me a picture of Isaac as a toddler—about three years old, with chubby, pillow-like cheeks and the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Wow,” I say, laughing. “That cannot be the same person. His eyes look… like they belong on a doll.”

Vera laughs loudly. “I know, everyone said that. He looked like a display toy. Though his personality was never as sweet as he looked.”

She keeps scrolling and shows me more photos.

In one, Isaac is slightly older, with his hand shoved into Vera’s plate while she glares at him furiously.

“What’s happening here?” I ask, laughing.

“He’s stealing my food,” Vera says, grimacing.

“That was his favorite hobby. I couldn’t eat anything without him reaching over.”

“And what did you do?”

“What could I do? I’d push him away and start yelling, but he thought it was hilarious. It was like I was giving him the green light to keep going.”

“No way,” I say, laughing. “This is the same guy who acts all serious and composed now?”

“He knows how to hide it well,” She says meaningfully.

I smile as I hand her phone back.

It’s oddly nice to see this more playful, childlike side of Isaac, something I never imagined existed.

It makes me feel like I understand him better and like him even more.

She kept showing me pictures of Isaac and casually scrolling through her phone as if there was nothing unusual about it.

As we talked, I started to feel more comfortable with her. The conversation had become more playful, and there was no pressure to keep up any pretenses.

Suddenly, with the most innocent smile, Vera said something that immediately caught my attention.

“Also, you know… when he was little, Isaac had the funniest nickname. We used to call him ‘butterball’!” she said, laughing.

I looked at her, confused. “Butterball?! Isaac?”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said, laughing. “He went through a phase when he was, chubbier, loved French fries and sweets, and he was always eating, so we called him that. He was so cute and… a bit rounder back then. And even though now he’s ‘buff’ with all his muscles from the gym, once upon a time, he was just our little ‘butterball’!”

The image of Isaac as a chubby little kid with the nickname “butterball” was so far removed from the guy I knew that I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

I saw Isaac handling everything with such seriousness, and the idea of him once being the complete opposite—a little “butterball” full of energy and sweetness—was just too funny.

Even though Vera didn’t say it maliciously, the thought of it made me burst out laughing.

I could hardly imagine Isaac in that state, and now hearing it was hilarious.

“Isaac… with the nickname ‘butterball’?” I said, still trying to hold back my laughter. “That’s something I would never believe.”

She smiled widely. “Exactly! You can’t imagine it, right? Now you see him and think, ‘What? Him?! Butterball?’”

“That’s crazy” I said, still laughing.

Vera laughed, clearly pleased that I found it funny too. “But don’t tell anyone, okay?” she added with a mischievous grin. “I’ll remind him of it, and he’ll make a fuss!”

Our laughter filled the air, and the atmosphere became much warmer. As we kept talking and discovering these funny sides of Isaac, I began to feel like we were sharing something unique. Something Isaac didn’t know I knew. And with Vera, the connection between us grew stronger.

The door suddenly opened, and Isaac walked in.

We both looked at him, and he looked back, startled and confused. He scratched Nala’s head, as if trying to figure out what was going on, still unsure.

Vera spoke first, breaking the tension. “Hey, brother. Missed me?”

Isaac turned his gaze to her, still looking perplexed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I just wanted to see my little brother,” she said while smiling.

“Okay…” he replied, continuing to pet Nala absentmindedly.

This is my moment to shine. “Good girl, Nala, let the…butterball pet you”.

Isaac’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he looked both shocked and slightly angry.

Before he could respond, Vera and I burst out laughing.

“You bitch “. He tried to sound serious, but he smiled.

“Sorry, but he’s your roommate, he had to know!” she said between laughs, and I just couldn’t stop.

Isaac looked at Vera, then at me, with a mischievous expression. “You talk about me even when i’m not around? Nothing better to do?,” he said, taking off his shirt with a move that seemed meant to impress us with his abs.

She looked at him and laughed. “Now you’re trying to flex? What, you think you have a new body or something?”

Isaac turned his gaze on her with his usual indifference. “This is my house, and I can flex whatever and whenever I want.”

It was hard for me to see him like this, so full of confidence.

I couldn’t help but glance down, trying not to make it obvious.

In fact, I had so much desire to look at him, but I knew I shouldn’t let it show.

Isaac shrugged, as if he didn’t notice my discomfort. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Then, turning to me with a stern look, he added, “Come get your things out of the bathroom. And find the shirt that you borrowed from me yesterday. I want it”.

I blinked in confusion and said, “I’ll do it later. I don’t want to leave Vera alone.”

“Go, don’t worry about it. I’ll call my fiancé while you’re gone. And Isaac, be nice to Dean. Don’t make me yell at you like we are kids again”. She said in a serious but funny tone.

I looked at Vera for a moment, unsure if I should follow, but eventually, I stood up and followed Isaac.

I watched him head toward the bathroom.

“Why would you talk about the shirt that y-”

Before I could say anything else, Isaac pulled me into his room and shut the door behind us.

61. Madly In Love

smut warning ⚠️ ( #3 )

Dean

Isaac pulls me inside abruptly, and before I can say a word, his lips crush against mine.

The kiss is wild, hungry.

His fingers glide to the back of my neck, holding me firmly in place, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away.

The thought of Vera waiting outside flashes briefly in my mind, but my body doesn’t listen.

All I know is that Isaac’s mouth is scorching against mine, and I can’t bring myself to stop.

“I missed you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my cheek before finding mine again.

“Then let’s not waste any more damn time”. I manage to say.

His kiss grows more desperate. His teeth tug at my bottom lip, and a low moan escapes me. “I can’t stand not kissing you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with passion.

“Then don’t stop,” I say without thinking. The kiss continues, filled with ecstasy and urgency, as if the world around us doesn’t exist.

Isaac’s eyes lock with mine, and that mischievous smile begins to form on his lips.

Oh, no.

I know that smile.

It’s the same one he has when he wants something and doesn’t care about anything else around him.

His hands slowly move towards the drawstring of my sweatpants, and my heart starts racing.

I feel his gaze on me, as if he’s challenging me, and immediately my eyes widen.

“Now?! Your sister is downstairs waiting for us,” I say, trying not to give in to his stare.

His smile intensifies, and his gaze grows more teasing. “Couldn’t care less” he says, bringing his face closer to mine. “I need you now.”

His voice is rough, full of need, and I know he won’t let me leave until I give him what he wants.

He sits in front of me, on his knees, with his gaze locked on mine, and the thought hits me like a lightning bolt. A shiver runs through my body.

I had Isaac freaking Nabokov on his knees for me.

The idea drives me crazy.

It somehow makes me feel powerful, like I have some sort of control over him, and the tension in the air becomes explosive.

I don’t know whether to react or just surrender to what’s happening.

Isaac pulls my pants down, revealing my boner. He looks up at me, and slowly grabs my dick, bringing it in his mouth.

I watch him as he sucks it, his lips wrapped around it with such focus, like he’s completely lost in the moment.

I can’t tear my eyes away.

Every movement he makes, the way he sucks on it, how his eyes close slightly in satisfaction, it’s almost… too much.

He makes me feel weak, I don’t know if I want him to stop, or never take it out of that mouth of his.

Watching him occasionally deep throating me, drives me absolutely insane.

I seriously cannot stop staring. And it feels even better than it looks.

There’s something about the way he’s so absorbed in it, so sure of what he’s doing, that pulls at something inside me.

Small moans slip away from me, and I instantly cover my mouth.

“Cum for me” he whispers.

His words shatter me. I feel every trace of self-respect evaporating, like it’s disappearing from my body, like it was never there.

Feeling this way, losing all my dignity, makes me want to disappear, and I freaking love it.

I love it when he orders me. I feel complete, like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, ready to belong to him completely.

Within seconds, I shoot a load of cum down his throat, and he swallows it right away.

Who would’ve thought.

“You taste so fucking good, Dean” he whispers again, giving me a desperate kiss.

I pull my pants up, still trying to catch my breath.

“I know how much you’d love to join me in the shower,” Isaac said with that teasing smile that always threw me off, “but you’d better go downstairs to Vera. It’s a shame to leave her alone.”

The image invaded my mind without permission, and a wild flutter of butterflies erupted in my stomach, but I pushed the thought away before it could take over.

“Fair point,” I said calmly, or at least I thought so.

We left the room and walked toward the bathroom.

Suddenly, Isaac grabbed me by the neck, and pressed his lips to mine in a quick kiss.

Before I could react, he gave me a gentle push toward the stairs.

“Go,” he murmured with a quiet laugh as he shut the door behind him.

I stood there, my hand resting on my neck as if I could trap the heat of that moment.

My heart was racing wildly.

I was completely, hopelessly, madly in love.

62. “So…”

Dean

As I walked down the stairs, the first thing I saw was Vera sitting on the couch, hanging up her phone with a smile.

“Talking to your fiancé?” I asked, just to start the conversation.

Her smile instantly grew. “Yeah,” she said, setting her phone down on the table in front of her. “I miss him.”

I sat across from her, watching her with interest.

“How’s he doing?”

“Good,” she replied. “He’s the kindest person I know. He always supports me, even when I’m stubborn and annoying,” she added with a laugh.

I smiled. “That must be nice.”

“It is,” she said warmly but as she spoke, her smile faded just a little.

“Where is he now?” I asked casually.

“In Greece. He still has a few days there before he comes back,” she said, touching the rim of her coffee mug.

I nodded. “I get why you miss him.”

Vera looked at me for a moment before asking lightly, “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

I felt my body freeze slightly.

Without much thinking, my hand moved to my chin, as if I needed to hide something, or buy myself a second to think.

I stole a quick glance toward the stairs. Isaac hadn’t come down yet.

“No, I’m not,” I finally replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

Oh, this was almost too entertaining.

Vera didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Suddenly, she seemed hesitant.

“What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a quiet sigh, then leaned in slightly.

“Dean…” she said softly. “Do you… know about Isaac?”

I frowned slightly. “Know what ?”

She studied my face for a moment before she finally spoke.

“That he’s bisexual.”

…

Help.

I didn’t react right away.

“He hasn’t made you uncomfortable, has he? I can beat him if you want” she said after a pause, clearly freaking concerned.

And that was it.

I couldn’t hold it in.

A loud laugh escaped me. Vera looked at me, puzzled.

I smiled and I met her gaze calmly.

“I’m gay.”

Vera’s eyes widened.

“WHAT?!”

Her coffee mug nearly slipped from her hands. She coughed abruptly, patting her chest as if she’d just choked.

And I just laughed.

Because that was exactly what Isaac had done when he found out.

Vera stared at me with wide eyes, like she couldn’t process what I had just said. Like I just said I was blind.

Her gaze scanned me from head to toe, as if she was searching for some invisible sign, some kind of proof.

That’s actually cute.

“Are you…sure?!” she asked, almost in shock.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.

“Pretty much,” I said, shooting her a wink.

Vera blinked rapidly before rushing to explain herself.

“Wow, I’m sorry for reacting like this, it’s just… you don’t…you don’t look like it.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

Seriously, what is it that I have and every woman tells me the exact same thing?!

Is there a certain ’ gay look ’ that I should have?

I’m just a man who likes dick.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way I swear!” she added quickly. “You’re extremely gorgeous—not that I’m hitting on you right now, I just mean that I didn’t realize, but I don’t mean that in a bad way, I swear—I don’t have a problem with it—oh my God, I think I need to stop talking.”

Her voice was a mix of panic and sweetness.

I cracked up.

“Vera, relax,” I said with a grin. “I’m not offended. You know who else reacted exactly like you?”

Vera looked at me, waiting for the answer.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice for the dramatic wow effect.

“Your brother.”

Vera’s jaw dropped.

And this time, she was the one who burst out laughing.

She laughs at first, but then her eyes widen.

Like she just now realized something huge .

I stare back at her with the exact same expression.

What the hell was she thinking?

Her smile turns dangerously mischievous.

“So…” she says slowly.

Her tone terrifies me. She’s smiling.

I can see where this is going.

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything!” she yells.

“You don’t have to.”

She raises her eyebrows, like she’s running calculations in her head.

“I’m just saying… since you’re both single and attractive…”

Oh my God.

She’s not seriously doing this.

“Vera, stop.”

“Come on, Dean, have you ever thought about my brother that way? I mean, objectively speaking—”

Yes, Vera.

Yes, I’ve thought about it.

I’ve thought about it, I’ve done it, I’ve explored every damn inch of him, I know how he breathes when he’s underneath me, I know how he tastes, I know how he feels.

I cut off my own thoughts before they show on my face.

“Vera,” I warn.

Before she can say anything else, footsteps echo from the stairs.

Isaac appears, with Nala in his arms.

A loose shirt, slightly oversized, hanging just a little lower than it should.

Goddamn baggy pants sitting way too low on his hips.

He drops onto the other couch, leaning back, Nala curling up against him.

He glances between me and Vera.

“What are you two talking about?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Vera beats me to it.

“Nothing.”

Good.

Silence.

Isaac is sprawled on the couch. I’m on the other side, and Vera sits between us.

For a moment, no one speaks.

“So, Dean, you know my brother is bi, right?”

Nah, I couldn’t tell.

My head snaps toward her so fast I almost hear my neck fucking protest.

Isaac, who had been lazily petting Nala just a second ago, freezes.

It takes only a beat of silence.

“Okay, this is fun. I’m getting the whiskey.”

He stands up immediately, Nala grumbling in protest as her pillow disappears, and I watch him head straight for the kitchen.

Vera smirks, like she’s enjoying this.

She starts talking enthusiastically about her brother, giving him compliments about his features.

“Look at how beautiful Isaac’s eyes are!” she says, smiling while looking at him.

“And his tattoos are amazing, aren’t they?”

Vera continues, “And what a beautiful face!” she twists his face a bit to get a better look, as if i’m about to buy him.

Like a dating app, but Real Life Edition.

“Look at how nice his jawline is,” she says, trying to make it even more intriguing, before giving him a light slap on the face.

And Isaac, there, just smiles fake, the same style he always keeps.

Vera approaches me this time.

Am I scared?

Absolutely the fuck I am.

“Isaac, look, aren’t Dean’s features so pretty?!” she says, her gaze roaming over my face like I’m a product in a display case. “Those eyes… perfect shape, unique color! And that smile, oh, you don’t see that often!”

I just stare at her, looking for any reaction, because the whole thing feels more like an advertisement than a conversation.

But she continues.

“And, you know, the most impressive thing is that you can handle Isaac. Seriously, who else could do that?! No one. No one could stand living with him for this long.”

Her last comment hits me, but Isaac just laughs, sighing.

Then, without thinking twice, he says with his usual ease, “We don’t need your matchmaking, Vera.”

“Whatever, your loss. I tried,” Vera says with her typical indifference.

I steal a quick glance at Isaac and he’s already looking at me, with that signature smirk of his, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I turn to the other side before I start laughing, trying to keep my composure, but his gaze exposes me more than I’d like.

Time passed, and the conversation kept drifting around various topics, but the truth is, I couldn’t focus at all . My mind kept circling back to that earlier discussion with Vera.

And then, that thing she said about me being the only one who could handle Isaac…

I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. What did she mean by that? It was like she was putting a label on me, like I was the only person who could deal with Isaac’s intensity.

Slowly, Vera got up, and it seemed like it was time for her to go.

She smiled widely, like it was something truly special that she met me.

“It was so nice meeting you, Dean,” she said, her gaze full of hints. “Think about what I said earlier,” she added with that mysterious tone of hers.

Isaac shoved her out with his hand, saying, “Yeah, yeah, we won’t forget.” And he closed the door.

63. Leave.

Isaac

I close the door behind me and turn around.

Dean is still in bed, looking at me like he can see straight into my soul. It’s almost creepy.

He doesn’t say a word.

Damn, how did I end up here? How the hell did I managed to find a freak like him?

And worse - How did I actually end up falling so damn hard for him?!

I take a deep breath and lift my hand, resting it on his shoulder.

“You will have to wait,” I tell him. “I just got an email while I was showering. I need to go drop off some paperwork. For a new house”.

His eyes drop, just a little. If he could grab me by the arm and keep me here, he would.

I know he would. But he doesn’t.

I kiss him gently. I start to pull away.

“I can come with you.”

I raise a brow, caught off guard.

“Yes, you can. Didn’t think you’d want to.”

Dean looks at me like I’m missing something obvious. “Of course I do,” he says, already going to put on his shoes.

What a guy…

I let out a quiet laugh, and wait for him.

Dean

Isaac pulls up to the curb and shifts the car into park.

He exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I’ll be quick.”

I nod but don’t move. When he reaches for the door, I grab his wrist without thinking.

He pauses.

Truth is…

I don’t know why I did that. My fingers tighten briefly before I let go. “You sure this can’t wait?”

Isaac studies me. “It’ll only take five minutes, you impatient son of a bitch.” He says and we both laugh.

Before I can second-guess it, I lean in.

Isaac stills for a second, then meets me halfway.

The kiss is slow, like neither of us wants to let go just yet.

I know I don’t.

His fingers graze my jaw before he pulls back, watching me.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs.

I nod.

He steps out and I sit back, missing him already.

My phone starts ringing.

I don’t recognize the number at first, but I hit the green button, praying it won’t be a forgotten aunt or something like that, that I haven’t seen since I was two years old.

Fuck’s sake.

“Dean?”

It’s Alex.

His voice is broken, full of…fear.

My stomach clenches immediately. “Alex? What’s wrong?”

“Dad is… I don’t know… He’s really angry. He’s yelling, throwing things… I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are you?”

“In the house.”

“Get out of there. Go somewhere safe.”

“I can’t—”

A loud thud makes me freeze.

“Alex?!”

Nothing.

“Alex!”

I hear the sound of the phone scraping against the floor, then his voice. “I have to go.”

The line goes dead.

Fucking hell.

“Fuck!”

I throw my phone onto the dashboard.

I grab it again.

I call Isaac who’s still in the building.

“Dean, what happened?” Isaac’s voice is calm. Way too calm.

“Alex. My father…” I reach for the door handle. “I have to go. I have to get there.”

“We’ll go.”

“I’ll take a taxi.”

“Dean.”

I turn sharply to him. “I don’t have time to argue. I’ll take a taxi.”

“The taxi will take longer. We’ll go in my car. I’m on my way down there.”

I grit my teeth.

Isaac is nowhere to be seen.

Time is slipping away. Every second I waste here could be the moment something happens to Alex.

The seatbelt feels like a trap.

Isaac quickly gets in and starts the car.

“How long till we get there?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Not fast enough.

I can’t breathe. I cant breathe because I don’t trust my dad not even a tiny fucking bit.

I press my hand against my forehead trying to clear my mind, but all I can hear is Alex’s voice.

Dad is really angry.

The car speeds up. Isaac is driving fast.

He doesn’t speak and neither do I.

My phone is in my hand. I call Alex again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Voicemail.

Nothing. Fucking nothing. “Shit.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

Isaac speaks calmly and that’s what makes me snap.

“Please don’t say that!”

I turn to him abruptly.

“Don’t say that like you know! You have no idea what our dad is capable of!”

Isaac doesn’t answer right away. He stares ahead and his hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Okay you’re right. I’m sorry, just try to calm down, in a few minutes we will be there. I know it’s hard but you can’t do anything else right now”.

My chest rises and falls heavily.

He’s right.

I clench my jaw and look out the window. The streets blur past.

Then I see the neighborhood.

Isaac slams the brakes, stopping abruptly in front of the house.

I rip off my seatbelt, shove the door open, and run.

I don’t wait for Isaac.

The house is dark.

The door is open.

Alex isn’t here.

Of course.

My chest tightens as I scan the room again, like I might have missed something, like he might still be here if I just look hard enough.

But he isn’t.

I let out a shaky breath. My father is passed out on the floor, the stench of alcohol thick in the air.

My fingers curl into fists.

“Dean…” Isaac calls.

I don’t look at him.

“He’s not here.” My voice is flat.

“Shit…”

Silence stretches between us.

“If I had taken a taxi, maybe I would have made it.”

Isaac exhales slowly. “You don’t know that, Dean!”.

“Oh no?”

I turn to him now, the anger bubbling in my chest, burning my throat.

“You didn’t want to let me go. You said we should take your car. If you hadn’t said that, I might have been here sooner.”

Isaac’s eyes got softer, but he doesn’t look away.

“Dean, we drove as fast as we could.”

“Clearly, it wasn’t enough.”

He presses his lips together. He looks like he wants to say something, but he holds back.

I shake my head, looking away. “I should’ve gotten here earlier. I should’ve—”

“Stop.”

His voice is firm.

I turn to him again. “Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself.”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh I’m not blaming myself. I’m blaming you.”

Isaac stiffens and for a second, guilt flickers in his eyes.

But then he exhales, regaining his composure.

“I get it.” His voice is quieter now. “You’re angry.”

I scoff. “Oh, do you?”

“Yes.”

His calmness infuriates me.

“You don’t get it, Isaac.”

He flinches this time. Just barely.

I keep going. “Alex called me. He was scared. And now he’s gone.” My voice breaks at the end, but I swallow it down.

Isaac looks at me. “And you think punishing me for it will bring him back?”

I glare at him. “I think you should’ve let me take the damn taxi.”

For a second, he says nothing. Then he sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Dean, if you had taken a taxi, maybe you would’ve gotten here sooner. Or maybe the taxi would’ve taken longer. Maybe Alex was already gone before we even left.” He shakes his head. “We don’t know. We can’t know.”

I clench my jaw. “I don’t care. All I know is that he’s gone.”

Isaac watches me carefully.

“And I know you hate feeling helpless.”

I freeze.

His voice softens. “You think if you’d done something differently, this wouldn’t have happened. But it’s not that simple, Dean.”

Something in me snaps. “Don’t act like you understand. Please.”

“I don’t,” he admits. “Not fully.”

He exhales, looking away for a second before meeting my gaze again.

“But I know you. And I know you’re going to destroy yourself over this.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “You don’t know anything.”

Isaac takes a step closer, but I step back.

He stops.

Silence.

I turn away from him.

“I’m staying here,” I mutter.

“Dean, you—”

“Leave. Please.”

He doesn’t move at first.

I feel him watching me, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind or something. But I don’t.

After a long pause, I hear him inhale sharply.

Then finally, he turns and walks toward the door.

He hesitates for just a second.

But he leaves.

Leaving me alone.

---

⚠️ Message for all of you who are losing it and hating on Dean:

NOT EVERY WATTPAD CHARACTER IS SUPPOSED TO BE DREAMY AND PERFECT IN EVERY WAY! Dean is like that on purpose, okay?

I just wanted to create something different from the typical flawless character. Obviously, the taxi wouldn’t have been faster. Dean himself later has a mental breakdown and questions his own behavior. Learn that mental struggles exist, and stop throwing hate for no reason!

64. Just Another Coward

Dean

My footsteps are heavy.

I grab a glass of water from the table and throw it straight into my father’s face.

He grimaces, rubbing his eyes, but before he can say a word, my voice cuts through the rotten silence of the living room.

“Wake up! WAKE THE HELL UP!”

My voice shakes, more from rage than anything else.

“How the fuck do you sleep at night? Huh? Tell me! Because I can’t! I can’t get out of my head how fucking messed up you both are! You and my mother! Two selfish assholes who decided to have kids without having a single clue how to raise them!”

My father exhales sharply, about to speak, but I lift my hand, cutting him off before he even opens his mouth.

“No! You don’t get to talk right now! RIGHT NOW, YOU LISTEN! You’ll listen the way you should have all these years but never fucking did! Do you have any idea how much I hate you? How SICK it makes me that we share the same last name? That I have your blood in me? That every time I look in the mirror, I’m terrified I’ll turn into you?!”

His eyes narrow, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.

“And my mother… God, my mother! So useless, so absent! Bringing us into this world just to throw us away, to pretend she doesn’t see, doesn’t hear! To pretend everything’s fine! It’s NOT! It never was! And you know who pays for your fuck-ups, right? You know who’s paying the price? Alex! Little fucking Alex, who sleeps in this house, who grows up in this mess, who lives every single day with an alcoholic father who doesn’t know if he loves him or just tolerates him!”

My voice cracks. My eyes burn. My father stares at me, lips pressed together, but it doesn’t matter. NOTHING matters anymore.

“And me… what the hell am I doing?! I leave him here! I leave him here and act like I’m better than you! Like I’m not like you! But look at me! LOOK AT ME! I’m abandoning him just like you abandoned us! And I know it! I KNOW that every night when I lie down to sleep, I’m no better than you! Or her! I’m just another coward who ran away!”

I run my hands through my hair, pulling at it, feeling like I’m about to explode. My father still watches me.

He sees me. But it’s too late for that, isn’t it? Too late for everything.

My chest rises and falls heavily. My eyes scan the room frantically, trying to make sense of the chaos.

The door… the door was open when I got here. How long had it been like that?

Why? Who left it open?

I turn sharply toward my father.

“Why was the door open?” My voice is sharp, demanding.

Nothing. No reaction.

“DID ALEX GET HURT? DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING AT ALL?!”

Still nothing.

My stomach twists into a tight knot. My anger flares up, but with it comes that same familiar despair, that endless void that suffocates me every time I set foot in this house.

“You’re nothing.” I spit the words out, each one heavier than the last. “A pathetic piece of garbage who can’t even speak, who can’t take care of his own son, who can’t even stand on his own two feet like a fucking human being. How do you live like this?”

I don’t expect an answer. There never was an answer. There never will be.

I drag a hand down my face, as if trying to wipe away all the fucking disgust clinging to me.

My brain spins at a speed I can’t control.

What do I do now?

Do I stay here until Alex gets back? I’m not leaving him alone in this house again. Not again.

Do I go to work tomorrow like nothing’s wrong? Like my mind isn’t in pieces? Like my little brother isn’t breaking apart in this place every damn day?

Do I talk to Isaac? Do I tell him what’s going on?

That I feel like I’m drowning, that I want to scream until there’s no voice left inside me?

The room around me feels blurry. The air is heavy. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know if it matters.

I rush up the stairs, two at a time, my heart pounding—not from exhaustion.

Worry. Fear.

I step into Alex’s room, scanning the space frantically. Something. There has to be something.

His bag is gone. Clothes are scattered on the floor, like he left in a hurry. My chest tightens. I exhale sharply, running a hand over my face.

I move toward the window. And then I see it.

Isaac’s car. Still there.

Fuck.

My stomach twists in a different way now. Seeing it there suddenly makes everything feel… wrong.

While I was with him, laughing, having fun, forgetting everything else—Alex was here.

Alone. And I was nowhere.

Who knows what he was going through all this time while I…

I grit my teeth and step away from the window. There’s a weight pressing down on my chest, dragging me under.

I should have never pushed Alex aside.

I hurry down the stairs, almost running. I have to find him. I have to do something.

And then it hits me.

I don’t have money for a taxi. I have nothing on me.

I grab my phone and find Katie’s name.

I hit call and wait. It rings a few times before I hear her voice on the other end.

“Hey, Dean, what’s up?”

“Katie, I know this is last minute, but can you cover for me at work tomorrow?” I say quickly. “Something… important came up. I will explain.”

I hear a brief pause on the other end. “Damn, Dean, I wish I could, but I have the same shift as you. I can’t switch it.”

I clench my jaw.

I expected this, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Alright, I get it,” I say as calmly as I can. “It’s okay, I’ll figure it out.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay… if I can help with anything else, let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Kate.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

I end the call and set my phone down on the table. Leaning back in my chair, I let out a slow sigh.

Now what?

The only thing left to do is go pick up my stuff. There’s no other option—I’ll stay here tonight.

65. I Will Do Anything

Dean

Another sleepless night. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind went back to the same place.

Alex. Where the hell was he.

I kept staring at my phone, over and over again, as if I were waiting for a miracle. A notification, a message, anything to tell me he was okay.

He had been online last night. So he was somewhere with internet. So he was…probably okay.

So… he didn’t want to answer me?!

That thought hit me like a punch to the gut. I had sent him so many messages.

No reply. Not even a damn “I’m fine.”

Last night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went out searching.

Every place I could think of, anywhere he might have gone.

The same result everywhere: nothing. It was like he had vanished from the face of the earth.

I felt so useless. Such a failure.

What kind of brother was I if I couldn’t even protect him?

By the time I got to work, my body felt heavy, my legs moving on autopilot. Luckily, my place was close.

All I had here was a charger, a toothbrush, old clothes.

No food, but who cared? I had no appetite.

I had no energy for anything.

All that was left was exhaustion and guilt, weighing on my chest like lead.

Right before I step into the restaurant, I see him.

Isaac.

My heart starts pounding so hard it almost hurts.

I still haven’t decided if it’s from anger or something else—something I don’t have the energy to analyze right now.

My stomach tightens. I already have enough to think about.

My brother is missing, and I… I let myself have a good time with Isaac while I knew that things were not okay.

How could I?

How did I allow myself to feel anything other than panic?

I move to go inside, to ignore him, but his hand closes around my wrist.

He’s not holding me tightly—if I wanted to, I could pull away easily.

But I don’t. Not right away.

I look at him, and his expression isn’t what I expect.

No mockery, no indifference. Not even anger.

It’s something else.

I don’t want to figure out what. I don’t have time for this.

“I brought some things,” he says calmly. “Clothes, food… the keys to our place.”

My heart—if it could break down crying, it would.

I shake my arm lightly, freeing myself. My stomach is a tight knot that won’t loosen.

“I don’t need them.” My voice is distant, cold, as empty as I can make it. And with that, I move to step inside.

But this time, Isaac steps fully in front of me, blocking my way.

“I didn’t ask if you needed them.”

His voice is firm, almost sharp, as he pushes the bag toward me.

I close my eyes for a second and sigh.

I don’t have the energy to fight this. I don’t have the luxury of getting rid of him any other way.

I take the bag from his hands.

“Thanks.” The word comes out flat, almost lifeless.

And with that, I step inside, leaving him standing there, just outside the door.

He follows. Of course, he does.

He sits in a chair directly across from me, like he’s doing it on purpose.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me, as if he has all the time in the world.

For fuck’s sake.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” I ask, not bothering to look up as I start filling my tray mechanically.

“No.” His voice is steady, calm, unwavering.

“I’m staying here until you accept my help and we search together. And you tell me what’s up with your father”.

His words bring a faint warmth that I don’t want to feel. I shouldn’t feel it.

I don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel right.

Because if we hadn’t wasted so much time, probably none of this would’ve happened.

If I had focused more on my family instead of messing around with Isaac, Alex wouldn’t be missing right now.

Maybe scared. Maybe…

I shut the thought down before it spirals further.

I grit my teeth and keep filling the tray.

“Leave, Isaac. You’re wasting your time. I’m sorry.” My voice is cold, almost indifferent, but I doubt he buys it.

He doesn’t have time to respond because Katie walks in.

For a second, the three of us just… look at each other.

The first time I’ve actually met her eyes since… everything.

She’s the one who breaks the silence.

“Well. This is awkward,” she mutters while laughing, grabbing a tray of her own.

Can’t argue with that.

I can’t look at him.

I press my lips together and keep working as if he’s not there.

I don’t care if he’s watching me, it doesn’t matter. I glance at the order that just came up, grab the plates, and start serving the tables.

I can feel his eyes on me.

No matter where I go, no matter where I stand, I know he’s watching.

Katie approaches me. She leans against the counter, crossing her arms.

“Don’t you feel bad for him at all?” she asks quietly. “What happened between you two? I thought you were doing really well. Wait—Is this about me?!”

I try to focus on the order I’m writing, but my fingers grip the pen too tightly.

“This has nothing to do with you, Katie.”

She studies me carefully.

“Seriously? Because it feels like it does, and you just don’t want to tell me.”

I don’t answer right away.

Why am I going through this?!

I lean slightly against the counter, rubbing my temples. This night is already hard enough without this conversation.

“Wish it was. It has nothing to do with that.” I finally say.

She bites the inside of her cheek, hesitant.

“You know…” she starts, playing with a coaster on the counter, “…maybe you should give him a chance though. He really seems like he wants to fix things. I’ve never seen Isaac like that, damn”.

I exhale sharply and put the pen down.

It’s not that simple. Only I know how hard this is.

Only I know what this means to me.

How fragile I feel every time my eyes search for him, even now, when I’m pretending he doesn’t exist.

But there’s no room for this right now. There’s no time for romance.

Not until the real problem that haunts me is solved. Not until Alex is out of that house.

Katie leaves, and almost immediately, Isaac steps up to the counter.

“Dean.”

I don’t look up.

“I don’t want to talk, Isaac.” I say coldly.

“Can you at least—”

“Go home.” I cut him off. “Nala probably wants to pee around this time.”

Isaac hesitates.

“Dean…” His voice cracks slightly. “What do I have to do for you to come back? I will do anything”.

I finally look up. His eyes are full of hope.

“I’m sorry, Isaac. But I don’t think it’s the right time now”.

It’s hard for me. Harder than I want to admit. I don’t give him what he wants.

I just walk away. I leave him there.

The restaurant door closes behind him, and I know he left sulking, like he always does when I don’t give him what he wants.

I don’t lift my head, but I can feel Katie’s eyes on me.

When I finally turn to look at her, she’s staring at me with pure confusion, almost disappointment.

“Didn’t you tell me you love him, you idiot?” she asks, like she can’t believe what just happened. “Weren’t you together?”

She has every right to ask.

I sigh and step closer to her, lowering my voice. I don’t want anyone else to hear this.

“Look.” I admit. “Everything I told you is true. And yeah, we’ve…been together. More than once.”

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“Then why—”

“Because yesterday, my fucking brother went missing.”

I grit my teeth as I say it.

I don’t know if what I’m feeling is anger, fear, or exhaustion. Probably all of them.

Katie freezes.

“What?”

I exhale sharply and run a hand through my hair.

“If Isaac’s job hadn’t slowed me down, I might’ve caught him in time.”

She doesn’t answer right away. She’s processing what I just said.

“What do you mean? Is your brother… is he okay? Dean, oh my God”.

I clench my jaw.

God, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.

If I do, my head will shatter into a thousand pieces, and I won’t be able to focus on anything else.

“I’d rather not get into it here.” I tell her flatly. “I’ll figure it out later, when I get home.”

Katie hesitates but doesn’t push. She just looks at me for a few seconds, like she wants to say something else, but in the end, she turns back to her work.

And I do the same.

Because no matter what I feel, no matter what I want, none of it matters right now.

The only thing that matters is Alex.

My shift is finally over, and all I want is to go home. Lock the door. Collapse onto my bed. Let my mind go blank, even just for a little while.

But the second I turn the corner to my street, my stomach twists into a knot.

An ambulance is parked right in front of my house. Its flashing lights pierce through the night, too bright, too overwhelming.

My first instinct is to run. So I do.

I see the paramedics lifting a stretcher.

My father.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Someone saw him passed out outside the house and called an ambulance,” one of them tells me. He doesn’t even look at me.

I rub my face, my breaths coming out heavier.

God, why am I in this family?

This is actually crazy.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I don’t know if I should be worried or relieved.

No, I’m definitely not hurt.

He deserved it. Not that it will stop him from drinking, but at least he will be missing for a few hours.

I turn away and step inside. I lock the door behind me, and for the first time in a long time, the house feels a little…safer.

Like the air is literally clearer.

Alex is still online.

What the hell is going on.

I see his name on the screen. He ignores every single one of my messages. His location is turned off.

Of course it is.

I don’t know anything. I asked the neighbors, but none of them had a clue where he was.

My head spins with a hundred different possibilities, but I know I won’t get anywhere like this.

I take a shower, letting the hot water loosen my muscles, wash the day off my skin.

Two hours later - Dean

I can’t sleep.

My eyes are still open, fixed on the ceiling.

I think about everything.

Was I too harsh on Isaac?

What if something had happened to him instead?

What if he was in my father’s place?

I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

I turn to my side, and my eyes land on the bag beside my nightstand. I reach for it and pull it open.

Inside, Isaac’s house keys.

I exhale slowly.

Maybe, right now, I really did need someone to talk to.

Maybe I did needed Isaac. The only person who actually cares and shows it.

I glance at the clock. Midnight.

I know exactly where he’ll be.

Sitting in his living room, curled up with Nala, a bowl in his lap filled with that absolutely disgusting mix of oats and milk that always looked like vomit.

The thought makes a small smile slip out of me before I even realize it.

I grab the keys, curling my fingers around them.

I get up. I walk to the door.

And this time, I don’t hesitate.

I need Isaac’s help.

I can’t do this alone anymore.

We’re going to find Alex. Together.

66. It’s Not What You Think

Isaac

My house feels empty, even though I’m not alone.

Nick, Mia, and Nate are here, talking, somewhere in the background.

But I… I don’t really hear them. The only thing I hear is the silence Dean left behind.

Will he come back? Or have I lost him for good this time?

I sink deeper into the couch, my head heavy from the alcohol.

I shouldn’t have drunk this much—I know that.

But with every sip, I was trying to drown out the thoughts, numb the ache in my chest that clings to me like something I can’t shake off.

And yet, the more I drink, the more I think about Dean.

Dean, who was here. Who walked into my home like it was his own, who looked at me with those eyes that seemed to see right through me.

And now… now he’s somewhere else. And I’m terrified he’s not coming back.

“Isaac, man, you need to give him some time.”

Nick’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind. I lift my gaze to him, but my eyes feel too heavy. “What happened… it was a lot. Let him process it.”

“I don’t want to give him time.” My voice comes out rough, more broken than I intended. “I want to help him and be there for him”.

Nate exhales, taking a sip of his drink. “You can’t force him, man. Dean has to come to you when he’s ready.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

This time, no one answers right away.

I let out a bitter laugh, letting my head fall back against the cushion.

My eyes fix on the ceiling, but all I see is him. Dean, the way he looked the last time I saw him.

Cold. Hard. Distant.

“I can’t lose him, man” I whisper. “Fuck everything, I just can’t.”

“Isaac…” Mia sounds exhausted. “This isn’t just about you. Dean has a lot to deal with. His brother—”

Alex.

My throat tightens.

Dean is a mess, I know that.

Alex is out there, and Dean is tormented because he doesn’t know where he is or if he’s safe.

And me? What am I doing? Sitting here, getting drunk, thinking about how badly I want him.

But it’s not just about wanting him.

I want to be there for him. I want to help him. To find Alex together.

He can’t go through this alone, he shouldn’t have to.

“I’m going to find him,” I say suddenly, trying to get up, but Nate pushes me back down.

“Isaac, chill. It’s past midnight. You can’t just go over there and drag him back.”

“Why not?”

Nate looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Because he’ll tell you to fuck off. And maybe this time, he’ll mean it.”

My jaw clenches.

The thought of Dean cutting me off for good makes my stomach twist painfully.

Suddenly, I can’t breathe.

I stand up abruptly, pacing the living room, trying to shake off the feeling.

Mia and Nick start gathering their things.

“We’re gonna head out,” Mia says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When they leave, the house feels even emptier.

I stand there for a long moment, lost in the chaos of my own head.

It’s late. He’s probably asleep. He probably doesn’t want to see me.

But what if he does?

What if, right now, he feels just as alone as I do?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Nate is getting ready to leave too.

I can hear him moving around, grabbing his stuff, zipping up his jacket.

The sound feels distant, like it’s happening in another room, or maybe in another life.

I don’t want to be alone. I want to be alone with Dean, actually.

“Where the fuck is he?” My own voice slurs as I speak, but I don’t care. “He should be here by now. He should’ve come back.”

Nate sighs, rubbing his face like he’s been through this a thousand times already. “Isaac, stop. He’s not coming.”

I blink at him. The words don’t register right away.

He’s not coming.

It echoes in my head, bouncing off the walls like a cruel joke.

“He has to,” I mutter, shaking my head, as if I can shake the thought away. “Why wouldn’t he come?”

Nate looks me right in the eyes, and suddenly, I feel small.

“Because he doesn’t want to.”

I swallow hard.

Fucker.

No. That’s not true. Dean wouldn’t do that to me.

Would he?

My stomach twists, and I rub my hands over my face, trying to ground myself.

The room sways, the edges blurring together. I feel like I’m sinking.

Fuck, I drank too much.

“Come on, man, you need to sleep it off,” Nate says, standing beside me now. He disappears for a second, then comes back with a glass of water.

“Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

I take the glass, but I don’t drink it. My hands are unsteady, my grip loose.

Nate exhales, dropping onto the couch beside me. “I know you love him, Isaac. But maybe right now, he needs space.”

I shake my head again, gripping the glass a little tighter. “I don’t wanna give him space. I want to fix this.”

Nate shifts beside me, and when I glance at him, he’s too close. Closer than before. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable.

Something feels… off.

“Nate,” I say slowly, my words dragging.

As Nate approaches me, he accidentally spills the glass of water on me.

“Aaah, you should take that off,” he says, gesturing toward my wet shirt.

I frown. “What the hell, man?”

“You’re soaked. Just take it off before you catch a cold or some shit.”

I blink at him again. Hell, I don’t feel much of anything, except for the heat in my face and the dull pounding in my skull. But Nate reaches out, grabbing the fabric at the back of my shirt, and I tense.

“What the hell are you doing?” My voice is rough, slurred, but the irritation is clear. I shove him back, hard enough to make him stumble. “Don’t fucking touch me like that.”

Nate looks surprised, but he raises his hands in surrender. “Relax, dude. I was just trying to help.”

I scoff, shaking my head.

Help. Right.

The movement makes me dizzy, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the nausea to pass.

I hear a sound.

A familiar, unmistakable sound.

Keys turning in the lock.

My breath catches.

My body goes rigid.

I open my eyes, barely daring to hope.

No fucking way.

Dean is at the door.

My whole body locks up.

My blood runs cold, and for a second, I swear my heart stops beating.

He’s standing there, staring at me and Nate, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitch.

No, no no no.

His hands are in fists, his shoulders stiff, and then—fuck—he drags his tongue over his teeth and sucks in the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to keep himself from losing it completely.

I push Nate away like he’s burning me.

“Dean—”

“Don’t,” he snaps.

I swear I feel my stomach hit the fucking floor.

His eyes—God, his eyes. I’ve seen him mad before, but not like this.

Not cold. Not so completely shut off.

He exhales sharply, then scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “While I’m out there dealing with real shit, you decide it’s the perfect time to start fucking around?”

I swear the room tilts.

I shake my head so fast it makes me dizzier. “No, no, fuck, Dean, I swear that’s not what—”

He lets out a sharp laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it. “Right. Of course not. Just a little harmless flirting while I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

My throat is so fucking dry.

My heart is slamming against my ribs, and there’s this awful, twisting pain in my chest, like something inside me is splintering apart.

“Dean, please, it’s not what you think—”

But he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even look at me when he turns to Nate.

“You can stay,” he says, voice flat. “Wouldn’t wanna interrupt.”

Nate stands up immediately. “I was just leaving—”

“Good.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He starts walking, heading straight for his bedroom.

Panic surges through me.

I stumble forward, almost tripping over myself, because I need to fix this. I can’t let him leave like this.

“Dean, just listen to me—”

“Don’t,” he bites out, not even turning around.

“I don’t wanna hear a fucking word.”

I reach for his arm, desperate, but he jerks away so fast it feels like a slap to the face.

My breath stutters.

I watch him grab his stuff—his books, his jacket, a couple of his things that he always leaves here—and it hits me so fucking hard I feel like I might actually throw up.

He’s leaving.

He’s really fucking leaving.

And I don’t know if he’s coming back.

“Dean, please, for the love of God,” I try again, my voice breaking. “You have to believe me. There’s nothing between me and Nate. There never was.”

He doesn’t stop packing.

He doesn’t even slow down.

And that’s what really makes me crumble.

He came back for me.

That’s the only thing that registers in my drunken, panicked haze.

He came back—he actually fucking came back. And this is what he walked into.

I feel sick.

Dean stands there, his expression somewhere between livid and completely, utterly detached. His jaw is locked tight.

“I came back,” he says, voice steady but burning with something beneath it, “because I thought maybe I was being fucking ridiculous. Maybe I was overreacting. I—I actually felt like I needed you, Isaac. And this—” He gestures vaguely between me and Nate. “This is what I walk into? Pretty pathetic”.

My throat tightens.

“No, Dean, it’s seriously not like that”.

He doesn’t even look at me.

I feel like my lungs are collapsing.

I step toward him, hands shaking, reaching for anything—any part of him that will listen, but he’s already turning away.

I move in front of the door, blocking him. “Dean, just—just wait.” I grab him by his shoulders.

His eyes snap to mine, dark and furious.

“Move. And don’t touch me.” he says, voice like ice.

I don’t. I can’t. I need to fix this.

His patience snaps.

He pushes past me, shoving me out of the way, and I barely catch myself before stumbling back.

My heart is slamming against my ribs, my vision spinning with alcohol and panic, and I watch helplessly as he heads for the door.

Nate, who’s still here for some reason, tries to speak, hands raised like he’s about to explain, but Dean doesn’t even slow down.

“Oh, fuck off,” he mutters, and then—he’s gone.

The door slams shut.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until my knees nearly give out.

67. He Loved Me

Dean

I step out of the house, and my head is buzzing. My eyes burn. My stomach is in knots. Every movement hurts.

It took me so long to decide to come back. To talk to him. To tell him that I was an asshole. That I overreacted. That I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.

That— that I still wanted him.

Cause I did.

And it was killing me.

That I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me.

But I didn’t make it in time. I didn’t get to say anything.

With Nate?! Seriously?!

I don’t know what drives me crazier.

The fact that he didn’t wait for me? Or the fact that he could be actually waiting for me, while freaking Nate was there too?

I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

Fuck. Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to take a breath, but it doesn’t help.

My heart is pounding too fast. I clench my hands into fists. I don’t know if I want to yell or break something.

He said he freaking loved me, there is no way this actually happened.

If someone hit me in the head right now, it would hurt less.

I trusted him. I felt something for him that I didn’t want to feel, and now… now it feels like I was just another one of his achievements.

This is disgusting, man.

I lift my gaze to the sky. The city lights blur in my vision. I feel betrayed, angry, lost.

I never should have come back. I never should have believed I would be something different to him.

I clench my jaw, take a sharp breath, and keep walking to my car.

“Dean, wait.”

I hear his voice behind me, but I don’t stop. I reach my car and go to open the door, but before I can, a hand holds it shut.

“Isaac, let me go.”

“No, you’re not leaving like this.”

I clench my jaw and turn to face him.

He’s close—too close.

My breath is heavy, my nerves at their limit.

“What do you want?”

“I want to fucking explain!”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh and shake my head.

“Explain what, exactly? How quickly you move from one person to the next? Cause I definitely got that, there’s no need to explain”.

His eyes darken.

“Is that what you still think this is? God, Dean, you were the one who walked away! You came back to apologize, didn’t you? You knew I’d be here!”

“I didn’t know you’d be with Nate !”

Isaac runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“It was just a conversation! I waited for you all day. And you know what I was doing while you were gone? I was talking about you, damn it! I spent hours talking to Nate about you!”

I stare at him, silent for a moment. His words hit me in a way I don’t expect.

I want to believe him. I want to understand. But… it doesn’t matter.

“It shouldn’t have been Nate.”

“You don’t understand. He was just helping me b-”

“Isaac.”

My voice is steady, serious. His expression shifts.

“Let’s be real. There’s no future for us.”

His lips part slightly, but he doesn’t speak.

“Right now, I don’t have space for any of this. I don’t have space for… feelings, for relationships. I have to fix my family. I have to do something about Alex. To find him. Everything else… it just doesn’t fit.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to argue. That he’ll try to convince me.

But he doesn’t.

His grip on the door loosens, and I take a step back.

I get into my car, buckle my seatbelt, start the engine. Isaac just stands there, unmoving.

I don’t look at him again.

I just drive away.

I sit on the bed with my face buried in my hands, and the tears just won’t stop.

They burn, my eyes sting, and I keep rubbing at them like that’s gonna fix it.

It doesn’t.

It just makes me look and feel worse. My chest keeps heaving like I can’t get a full breath, like I’m choking on air.

And I don’t even know why I’m doing this to myself.

Why the hell I keep pushing everyone away, especially now, when I need them the most.

When I need him the most. Isaac.

He’s been right there, reaching for me, and I keep slamming the door in his face like it’s gonna protect him from me.

Like it’s gonna protect me from feeling more than I already do.

I press my palms into my eyes until all I see are sparks of light.

Why am I like this?

I want to believe there was never anything between Isaac and Nate.

I want to trust him. God, I do trust him.

But I keep hanging onto that doubt, using it as some kind of shitty excuse to stay away.

To tell myself it’s safer if I keep him out. But it’s not. It’s a lie.

The truth is I love him, I need him, and I’m too screwed up to let him see that.

I curl forward, fists pressed against my forehead, sobbing like a kid who doesn’t know what to do.

Because I don’t. I don’t know how to let someone hold me up without dragging them down with me.

I hate this.

I hate that it got to me this much.

I hate that it hurts.

But it does.

Isaac still means everything to me. Even now. Even after I walked away, after I told him there’s no future for us.

Even now, when I’m trying to make myself believe it.

But I don’t feel better.

I don’t feel… relieved. I’m not happy with how things turned out.

Did I want to hurt him the way he hurt me? I don’t know.

Did I do the right thing? I don’t know.

All I know is that I don’t have answers.

All I know is that I feel lost.

I close my eyes and run my hands over my face. My head is a mess, full of thoughts leading nowhere.

I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to feel anymore.

I let out a long breath, roll onto my side, and clutch my pillow.

Maybe if I sleep it’ll be easier when I wake up.

Maybe.

Next Morning - Dean

I wake up feeling like Death himself dragged me through the underworld and spat me back out just for fun.

My limbs are heavy, my head is clouded, and for a second, I wonder if I even slept at all.

Somehow, I drag myself out of bed and get ready for work.

By the time I make it to work, I half-expect to see Isaac’s car parked outside, like yesterday.

Like always.

But this time, it’s not there.

I don’t know why that makes my chest feel tighter.

Shaking it off, I step inside the restaurant, forcing myself to look normal, to act like I don’t feel like absolute garbage.

Katie is already there, carrying a tray of water glasses. As soon as she sees me, she looks up and watches me closely.

“You didn’t sleep well.”

“I didn’t sleep at all.”

I grab a notepad and head toward a table, but Katie follows me, setting the glasses in their place.

“Dean…”

“Now’s not the time for this.”

“I’m not saying we should talk about him . I’m saying we should talk about your brother.”

I grip the pen tightly in my hand and nod to a passing couple entering the restaurant.

“Have you searched everywhere?”

“Yes.”

I take an order quickly, mechanically noting down the customer’s choices. Katie stands next to me, her arms crossed, waiting.

“Are you sure?”

“Katie…”

“Have you gone through everything step by step? All the possible places he could have gone?”

I sigh heavily and rest my hand on the counter to steady myself.

“Yes, Katie. I’ve thought of every possible place. Dad’s house, his friends, his school, the park, even those damn abandoned buildings he might’ve gone to for peace. He’s nowhere.”

Katie puts her empty tray on the counter and looks at me thoughtfully.

“So… if he’s nowhere, then it means he’s somewhere you haven’t thought of yet. Didn’t he ever mentioned a single safe place?! Kids always do that”.

I stop suddenly.

Something inside me clicks.

Oh my God.

Aunt Ivy’s house.

How didn’t I think of it earlier?!?!

We don’t visit her anymore, but the house is still there.

Alex knows it.

It’s not completely unfamiliar to him, but it’s not the first place that would come to mind.

“Dean?”

“I think I know where he is.”

My stomach tightens into a knot.

I have to leave.

I have to leave now.

But I can’t.

I’m in the middle of my shift, and if I just walk out, my boss will kill me.

Panic rises in my chest, like I can’t breathe right, like I’m suffocating.

“Dean,” Katie says, grabbing my hand. “I’ll cover for you. He won’t find out.”

I look at her, ready to refuse, ready to tell her she can’t do this for me, but she’s already taken my notebook from my pocket and holds it tightly.

“Go,” she says seriously.

Without thinking, I hug her quickly and kiss her on the forehead. “I owe you,” I say, and rush out the door.

I slam the restaurant door behind me and almost leap down the steps to reach my car.

Except—

“No. No, no, no.”

Another car is parked right behind mine, hazard lights flashing.

I look around, my eyes scanning the area.

No one.

Goddamn it.

GODDAMNIT.

I clench my teeth and go to punch the hood, when suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist roughly and pulls me sharply to the right.

My body crashes into something solid, warm.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” I hear a familiar low voice next to me. “Not even look at me. Just get in.”

I turn my head and see Isaac.

His car door is open.

He shoves me gently, but firmly, into the passenger seat before I can protest.

“Isaac, what—”

“Get in already!”

My fingers curl into fists.

I don’t want to get in.

I don’t want to owe him.

But I don’t have another choice.

Without another word, I climb in quickly and slam the door shut behind me.

Panic hits me like a weight on my chest, so heavy I can barely breathe.

My hands are trembling as my mind tries to make sense of it all, but I can’t think clearly.

Alex… When we were younger, he always said he wanted us to go live with Aunt Ivy.

Every time I asked him why, he’d just smile and say it was because we’d be safe there.

She lives far away though, that’s why I didn’t think of that.

“Where are we going?” I hear Isaac’s voice next to me.

I don’t waste any time. I give him the address quickly, emphasizing each word.

A moment later, my phone’s at my ear, and my finger presses on the saved contact. Aunt Ivy picks up almost immediately.

“Aunt? Is Alex there?” I ask quickly, almost not believing the words coming out of my mouth.

She hesitates. “Oh, Dean, I don’t think now’s the time for this…” Her voice shakes, and I can tell she’s trying to avoid saying more.

“Please, Aunt. Is he there? Is he safe?” I insist, my voice desperate now.

Before she can answer, I hear a small, quiet voice on the other end. “Dean?!”

My heart stops for a moment. It’s like I’m losing the world around me.

“Alex…” I say shakily, his name escaping my lips with a tone of uncertainty, but also hope at the same time.

Then, I hear Isaac’s engine rev, and I look toward the window. Instinctively, my hand tightens around the phone.

“I found Alex,” I tell Isaac, my voice coming out relieved, almost as if something has shifted, like maybe, finally, we can do something right for him.

Isaac goes faster, and I quickly hang up the phone, my eyes glued to the road ahead, not knowing how to feel anymore.

The rain is coming down hard, almost impossible to see through, pounding on the windshield, and the sound of it makes it feel like a storm inside my head.

Isaac is struggling to keep the car on the road, his gaze fixed ahead, as if trying to make out anything through the torrential downpour.

“Fuck,” he mutters tightly, and I get it. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to figure out if Alex is actually here.

If he’s really inside.

“Is he really there?” Isaac asks, and I can only nod, still unable to fully believe what I’m saying.

My mind is still a haze, filled with worry.

We pull up outside Aunt Ivy’s house, and I shut off my phone, trying to muster the courage to open the door.

The rain is unbearable, but I don’t care. I take a deep breath, step out, and open the door, not looking back.

Isaac follows quietly, and we walk quickly, trying not to get completely soaked, but in the end, it doesn’t matter.

The feeling of the rain on us is like it’s trying to wash away the tension in the air.

We reach the stairs and climb them, the sound of our footsteps echoing, and the rain makes everything feel heavier.

I stop in front of the door, knocking hard, repeatedly, my hand trembling slightly.

“Alex, I want to see you. It’s okay for you to come out, just… open the door!” I shout, with every part of me still shattered with worry.

At first, I hear nothing.

The silence feels worse than the rain. But suddenly, the door swings open with force, and Alex appears in front of me.

Without a word, he pulls us both inside, as if there’s no room for hesitation. His expression is uneasy, but at this moment, I’m just relieved he’s alive and standing in front of me.

68. You’re Staying Here.

Dean

Before Alex can say anything, I pull him into a tight hug.

My fingers press into his back, feeling the warmth of his body, the small frame beneath my palms.

He’s here. He’s okay.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Were you here this whole time? What happened? Why—”

Alex raises his hands as if surrendering. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m fine, I’m sorry—”

Before he can continue, his eyes shift to Isaac.

“And… I’m sorry to you too. If I got you worried.”

Isaac, who has been standing quietly beside me, tilts his head slightly, as if trying to read Alex. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says, his tone unexpectedly gentle.

“Even though I was worried too…I get it.” Isaac’s voice is steady, calm. “It’s not always easy to see things clearly when you’re in the middle of them. I’ve been there before. What matters is that you’re here now.”

The way Alex looks at him in return, like he finally feels understood.

I didn’t expect Isaac to… be this good at this.

I don’t know why it surprises me.

Alex exhales slowly, as if releasing a weight off his shoulders. “I’m here,” he repeats, and this time, he sounds like he believes it.

And me?

I feel relief.

So much relief it paralyzes me.

My body loosens in a way it hasn’t in days.

The air fills my lungs deeply, freely, without pressing heavy on my chest.

My little brother is safe.

My aunt approaches the door, her coat buttoned up to her neck and a colorful scarf loosely tied around it.

Her short, gray hair remains neat despite the humidity, and her eyes are already studying us before she even speaks.

A wave of embarrassment washes over me. This is not how I wanted Isaac to meet my family.

Not drenched from the rain, with my heart still pounding from everything that happened.

“Aunt, why didn’t you tell me about Alex?” I ask, and there’s a hint of frustration in my voice that I don’t even try to hide.

She raises an eyebrow slightly, but before she can respond, Alex cuts in. “We’ll explain everything once we sit down,” he says, almost pleading with us to wait. “But first… can you dry off? You’re both soaked.”

My aunt nods in agreement, and then her gaze lands on Isaac.

“And who’s this handsome young man?” she asks with interest.

Before I can say anything, Alex throws out the most effortless and disastrous statement.

“That’s Dean’s boyfriend.”

My eyes widen. “He’s not—!”

Isaac just smiles. Smiles!

I slightly hit him with my elbow.

“Roommate,” he corrects smoothly. “I’m his roommate.”

I watch as my aunt studies Isaac’s face, her brows knitting together like she’s trying to piece something together.

“You look familiar,” she finally says, tilting her head slightly.

Isaac smiles, the kind of easy, confident smile that he always seems to have. “That’s probably because I’m Philip Nabokov’s son.”

My aunt’s eyes widen slightly. “ The Philip Nabokov? The oil magnate?“

I don’t miss the way she glances at me, like she can’t quite believe I know someone like him.

Before I can say anything, Alex snorts.

“Wow, Dean, look at you, rubbing elbows with royalty. Next thing we know, you’ll be dining with the king.”

Isaac laughs, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head.

Alex, watching the whole exchange with a grin, shakes his head. “I really missed you two.”

I look at him. Then at Isaac.

I don’t say it out loud, but fuck me if Alex isn’t entirely wrong.

“Dean, go get some towels for him, quickly,” my aunt orders, already turning toward the kitchen.

“You’re both soaked. I’ll make something to eat while we sit down and talk.”

I glance at Isaac, then at Alex. My chest tightens, and before he can follow after my aunt, I look him dead in the eye.

“Don’t leave again.”

Alex nods without hesitation and heads to the living room.

I exhale and turn to Isaac. “Come on,” I say, motioning for him to follow.

We climb the stairs, our wet clothes clinging to our skin, water dripping lightly onto the floorboards.

At the end of the hallway, we reach the linen closet.

Isaac stands to my right, too close, his presence impossible to ignore. And, worse, he smells annoyingly good.

I open the closet, grab a couple of towels, and shove one into his hands. “Wait here.”

Before he can ask why, I step into the room on the left.

It’s the storage room, where we’d left some of our old things back when we used to live here all the time.

I kneel in front of a drawer, rummaging through it, until my fingers land on the widest shirt I can find.

It’s still a gamble if it’ll fit him.

Probably a bit snug.

Not all of us have shoulders and a back the size of a damn wardrobe.

I return to Isaac and wordlessly hand him the shirt.

He takes it, turning it in his hands. “Whose is this?”

I swallow and look away. “Mine. Old but will do the work.” My voice is lower than I intend.

“Wear it if you want. If not, whatever.”

Without a second thought, Isaac pulls off his soaked shirt.

My eyes widen.

“Not here—! Not now—!”

I grab his arm and push him toward the bathroom door next to us.

“Go in there to change, dumbass.”

His skin, despite the wet clothes, is warm.

Unreasonably warm.

Like his body holds onto heat no matter what. The brief contact is enough to make something shift under my ribs, something restless, something that makes me rub my eyes the moment I shut the closet door again.

I exhale.

I need to pull myself together.

We head back downstairs.

Isaac drops onto the couch, and before I can do the same, Alex moves straight to the spot next to him.

I stop, staring at him. “Really? You’d rather sit with him than me?”

Alex looks at Isaac, then back at me, completely serious. “Isaac has an aura. If I sit next to him, maybe some of it will rub off on me.”

Isaac laughs, amused, and they shake hands like they’ve just made some kind of deal.

I glance at my aunt, who’s watching them with a chuckle of her own.

“Right. Such an aura,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Isaac turns to Alex, his grin widening. “Dean’s jealous.”

Alex nods immediately. “Definitely.”

I groan. “I’m not jealous.”

I am.

Isaac just smirks, and Alex looks way too pleased with himself.

I’m starting to regret bringing them together.

My aunt exhales a long stream of smoke and asks, “How’s my brother doing?”

I freeze. She means my dad.

My gaze flicks between all of them—Alex, my aunt, Isaac.

None of them know.

I swallow hard. “He’s in the hospital.”

Silence.

I shift in my seat. “They found him passed out from drinking. Or something like that. I didn’t get all the details.”

My aunt sighs, taking another drag from her cigarette, disappointment etched into her face.

Isaac looks at me, and I hate the expression he’s giving me—the quiet pity in his eyes, like he’s trying to understand, like he feels for me.

I grit my teeth and turn to Alex. “I still don’t know what happened that made you leave. Or why you ignored my messages.” My voice is tight, sharper than I mean it to be. “You were online, Alex. I saw you. You didn’t answer a single thing. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Alex lowers his head, his fingers twitching slightly against his knee. Then, finally, he starts to speak.

That night had been worse than usual.

Dad was drunk, no surprise there, but this time, he wasn’t just shouting at the walls, at the TV, at whatever bullshit he made up in his own head.

This time, he turned his attention to Alex.

Something about money. About how Alex had become useless.

A burden.

Alex had learned to ignore him. But then Dad grabbed him.

Hard. Too hard. Fingers digging into his arm, shoving him back when he tried to step away.

Alex told himself not to react, not to push back, not to say anything to make it worse. But he was done. He was so done.

So, he left.

Shoved his essentials into a bag and walked out, ignoring the slurred yelling behind him.

He thought about calling me while he was here. He almost did.

But then he saw my messages piling up, and he couldn’t bring himself to open them. Couldn’t face the possibility of hearing my voice, of me asking why he left, when he wasn’t ready to answer.

By the time Alex finishes, my stomach is a knot.

Isaac reaches out, resting a hand on Alex’s shoulder in quiet support.

Alex looks at him and smiles, just a little.

I should say something. Anything.

But my throat feels tight.

I just sit there, my hands clenched into fists.

I hate that Alex went through that alone. I hate that I couldn’t stop it.

I cross my arms, glancing between my aunt and Alex. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? You were hiding from dad, not from me.”

My aunt shifts uncomfortably, while Alex looks away, his jaw tightening.

“We didn’t know if we could trust you,” she admits. “What if your father asked you to find Alex? What if you didn’t even realize he was using you?”

I blink, the words hitting harder than I expected.

My own brother thought I’d do that?

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “You really believed I’d help him?”

Alex doesn’t answer right away, but the way he won’t meet my eyes says enough.

Before the silence stretches too long, Isaac speaks up. “It makes sense that they were cautious,” he says, his voice even. “When you’ve been hurt enough times, you start preparing for the worst, even if it means doubting people who care about you. It’s not fair, but fear makes people do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

My aunt studies him, something shifting in her expression. “You’re very insightful for someone so young.”

Isaac grins, clearly amused. “I have my moments.”

“We need to figure something out,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

Alex exhales, shaking his head. “I don’t want to go back there. I’m not going back to that house.”

My aunt lets out a heavy sigh. “Wish I could fight for custody, sweetheart” she says. “If I had the time and the money, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Alex’s expression softens. “I’d want to stay with you,” he admits.

I nod. “Then I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

Alex doesn’t say anything, but for the first time tonight, he looks a little less tense.

He stretches, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I say, watching as he disappears down the hall.

I turn toward the window, staring out at the storm. Rain pounds against the glass, and the wind howls through the trees.

I glance at Isaac. “How the hell are we supposed to drive in this?”

Before he can answer, my aunt steps up beside us. “Oh, you’re not. There’s no way I’m letting you two get yourselves killed in this weather.” She crosses her arms, daring either of us to argue. “You’re staying here.”

Isaac opens his mouth, probably to politely refuse, but she shuts him down before he even gets a word out.

“There are extra rooms. Clothes, soap, toothbrushes—whatever you need. You’re not leaving until morning.”

Isaac chuckles, shaking his head. “I guess that settles it.”

69. Don’t Make Me Regret This

Isaac

The thunder outside rumbles through the house. I should be sleeping, but the sound keeps pulling me back.

Thank God Vera could take Nala with her.

I push the covers off and get up, heading for the kitchen.

As I pass Dean’s room, I notice the door is open. Alex is asleep, curled up in the blankets.

Dean’s not there.

Downstairs, I rub my eyes, trying to remember where the hell the glasses are.

Fuck.

“First cupboard on the left”

A voice. I freeze. My heart almost jumps out of my damn chest.

I spin around, ready to throw hands, only to see Dean sitting on the couch by the window.

Just sitting there, watching the storm like some brooding movie character.

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter, pressing a hand to my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I grab a glass, fill it with water, and drink without breaking eye contact.

Dean just watches. It’s impossible to tell what’s going through his head.

When the glass is empty, I hesitate.

Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I move to the couch and sit down next to him.

Not too close. Just enough.

Dean looks at me, from head to toe, then turns his gaze back to the window.

Great.

I want to say something, but nothing comes to mind. Everything feels too small, too pointless.

So I sit there in silence, watching the rain with him.

Time passes by, and I start to think we’ll sit here all night without a word.

Until he turns his head to me.

“You used to drive me insane.”

I blink at him. “…Thanks?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I mean it. Those first few weeks? I couldn’t freaking stand you.”

I smirk, setting my empty glass on the table.

“Yeah, I got that. Thought you were gonna kill me in my sleep at one point.”

“Would’ve been justified,” he mutters.

I raise an eyebrow. “For what, exactly?”

Dean turns his head to look at me, unimpressed. “The damn parties, of course. Random people everywhere. The noise, the mess—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head again. “Drove me fucking crazy.”

I can’t help but grin. “You were just mad because you couldn’t color-code the fridge with that many people in the house.”

Dean glares. “That is not—” He stops, squints at me, then sighs. “Okay, maybe a little.”

I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. “You know what drove me crazy? The lists. The fucking schedules. You had to wash my plate 2 minutes after I was finished with my food. If you could do it while I was still eating, i’m sure you would.”

“That’s called being responsible.”

“That’s called being a control freak.”

Dean just rolls his eyes and looks back out the window.

I watch him for a second, then lean back against the couch, my voice quieter now.

“I didn’t think we’d end up here.”

Dean is silent for a moment.

“Me neither.”

I glance at him, but he’s still watching the storm.

For some reason, that makes my chest feel weird.

Not bad. Just… something.

I don’t know why I start talking. Maybe it’s the storm. Maybe it’s the fact that Dean isn’t looking at me, which somehow makes it easier.

“When I first came to Australia, there was a condition,” I say, turning the empty glass in my hands. “I could stay in my mom’s house for as long as I wanted—away from the industry, away from the bullshit of being ‘important’—but I had to live with a freaking roommate.”

Dean finally looks at me. “That’s a weird condition.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” I exhale sharply. “My grandma thought I needed to learn how to live by someone else’s rules. How to live… humbly , I guess.”

Dean’s lips twitch. “That worked out well.”

“Oh, shut up.” I shake my head, but I’m smiling.

“Anyway, I hated the idea. Hated it more than anything. But I wanted that house. So I sucked it up and waited for the universe to send me someone tolerable.”

I pause, shifting my gaze to him.

“And then I got your phone call.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “And you were… thrilled, I assume?”

I snort. “I wanted to die.”

Dean barks out a laugh, and for some reason, that makes my chest loosen a little.

I let out a breath, leaning back against the couch. “But then…”

I trail off, because this is the part that’s harder to say.

“Then you started ruining everything.”

Dean frowns. “Ruining?”

I nod, looking down at the glass in my hands.

“Yeah. Ruining. Because I’d made peace with how things were supposed to be. I’d made peace with keeping my distance, with everything being temporary. But you kept… changing things. And not in some big, dramatic way, but in these stupid, small ways that I wasn’t prepared for.”

I glance at him, but he’s watching me now, quiet.

So I keep going.

“Like that Christmas. I hadn’t decorated a tree in years, and you made me help you put up that ugly plastic thing in the living room.” I exhale a quiet laugh.

“Or that time we had to run from those thieves at night, and you were so sure we could free ourselves by throwing the dog food on the leaders head and run.”

Dean’s lips press together like he’s trying not to smile.

“Or how you always made sure there was cooked food in the house, even when you weren’t eating much yourself.” I shift slightly, staring at the rain. “Or how you found the lost paint brush even when you didn’t have to. How you called me out on my bullshit but never pushed too hard. How, even when you hated me, you still made space for me.”

I swallow, gripping the glass a little tighter.

“You made me believe that maybe life isn’t just…” I hesitate. “Maybe it isn’t just what I thought it was.”

The silence stretches between us.

I don’t know what Dean is thinking. I don’t know what I want him to say.

All I know is that the storm outside isn’t the only thing making my heart beat this fast.

My fingers tighten around the glass as I stare at the rain. “And then there was Sergei.”

I don’t have to say more. Dean shifts beside me, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly. “You didn’t even like what I was doing. You thought I was making the worst fucking choices. And you were right.”

I finally turn to look at him, my voice steady. “But you still took the hits.”

Dean doesn’t react at first. He just watches me, unreadable.

“I don’t think you get what that meant to me.” My throat feels tight, but I push through it.

“No one’s ever done that for me. No one’s ever put themselves in harm’s way for me like that, just because they—” I stop myself.

“Just because they what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. “All I know is that even if nothing else had happened—if we never had another moment together, if you walked away right now and I never saw you again—” I exhale sharply. “I’d still remember you, Dean Clark, for the rest of my life, just for that.”

The words hang between us.

And for the first time, I’m scared of how he’s going to respond.

I stand up. My legs feel a little unsteady, but I don’t let it show.

“I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now,” I say, my voice even. “With your family. With college. Work. With everything.”

Dean doesn’t react right away, but I know he’s listening.

“I get it. I really do.”

I take a step closer.

Then another.

Dean doesn’t move.

I’m close enough now to feel the warmth of his body, the way his breath subtly changes.

My own pulse is picking up, but I don’t let myself think about it too much.

“So, I’ll make this simple,” I say, my voice lower now.

“If you really think there’s no space for me in your life, if you can tell yourself that you can live without me and actually mean it, then I’ll go. And I won’t come back.”

Dean’s jaw tightens. His breathing has changed. But he still doesn’t move.

I step even closer, my lips almost brushing his.

“But if even a part of you wants me,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “and you decide to follow that part, for good, then you know where to find me.”

I hold there, just for a second. Just long enough to make sure he feels the weight of it.

Then I step back.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

I turn and walk upstairs without looking back.

Dean

I don’t move.

Isaac’s words keep playing in my head, looping over and over, burning themselves into my skull.

I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with that.

I watch him disappear up the stairs, my pulse still unsteady.

I should have said something.

Stopped him.

Pushed him away.

Pulled him closer.

I don’t even know anymore.

A part of me feels like I should be pissed. Like he just threw all of this in my lap and expects me to deal with it.

But another part of me, one I don’t want to acknowledge right now, wants to go after him.

I scrub a hand over my face.

No. Not tonight.

My head’s already too much of a mess. I’ll deal with this tomorrow.

Right now, I need water. And sleep.

I make my way to the kitchen, still half-lost in my own thoughts. The second I step inside—

“Jesus!” I jump back.

My aunt stares at me, blinking. “You too?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Why is everyone awake tonight?”

I exhale sharply, still feeling my heartbeat in my throat. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She snorts.

She doesn’t say anything at first.

Just looks at me.

I keep my expression neutral, grabbing a glass from the counter like nothing’s wrong. Like I’m just here because I couldn’t sleep.

“You okay?” she finally asks, voice even.

“Yeah.” I pour the water. “Just… everything with Alex, you know?”

It’s not a lie. Not completely. But it’s not the whole truth either.

She doesn’t respond right away.

Just takes a slow drag of her cigarette, eyes still on me.

“So it’s got nothing to do with the young man?”

I freeze.

I don’t mean to, but it happens anyway.

My grip on the glass tightens just slightly. I don’t look at her.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, exhaling smoke as she stubs out the cigarette. “Thought so.”

I should deny it. Say something. Anything. But my mind is still stuck in the living room, replaying Isaac’s words, the way he looked at me, the way he got so damn close before walking away.

My aunt leans back against the counter, watching me.

“You know, when I was younger, I had a girl.”

I blink.

“What?”

“A girl,” she repeats, smirking slightly at my expression. “What, you thought it was always just me and Mike?”

Honestly? Yeah.

I did.

Mike is her ex husband, they divorced though when he cheated on her.

“Her name was Dani,” she goes on. “I was crazy about her. She was smart, stubborn, always had something to say. Used to drive me up the wall, but I loved the hell out of her.”

I don’t know why she’s telling me this. Maybe she sees something in me I don’t want her to see.

“One night, we had a fight,” she continues, taking another drag. “One of those stupid ones that don’t even matter when you think about it later. But we were young, and we were mad, and she stormed off, got in her car, and drove away before I could stop her.”

She pauses.

The air in the room changes.

She exhales smoke, flicking the ashes from her cigarette.

“If you’d asked me that day if I thought I’d be at her funeral three days later, I would’ve said no chance in hell.”

I stop breathing.

My fingers tighten around the glass.

“Car accident,” she explains, voice steady. “Just like that. One second she was here, the next…” She gestures vaguely, then looks at me.

I don’t know what to say.

“Life doesn’t wait for you to figure things out, Dean.”

Her words settle deep into my chest, heavy and unshakable.

I look down at my hands, gripping the glass too tightly, thoughts racing too fast to hold onto any single one.

“I’m going to bed. I’m sure you will do the right thing.” She whispers and then closes her door.

I don’t know if she’s telling me this because she knows.

Because she sees it.

But I do know one thing—

She’s right.

“Fuck it.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I move.

Fast.

I take the stairs two at a time, my heartbeat a violent, erratic drum in my chest. My whole body is thrumming, my hands already curled into fists like I’m bracing for impact. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I just go.

By the time I reach his door, my breath is uneven, but I don’t stop. I raise my fist and knock—hard.

Silence.

A few seconds pass, but it feels like a damn eternity.

Then, footsteps. Slow. My stomach is tight, my pulse a wildfire spreading through my veins.

The door swings open.

Isaac stands there, staring at me, his expression unreadable.

His chest rises and falls steadily, but I see it, the flicker of something in his eyes.

A question. A challenge.

I don’t give him time to ask.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

The second the words leave my mouth, he moves.

Fast.

His fingers curl into my shirt, yanking me inside before I can take another breath. The door slams shut behind me, cutting off the rest of the world.

70. Try To Be Quiet.

smut warning ⚠️ ( #4 )

Dean

The door barely has time to click shut before Isaac’s hands are on me.

He grabs my face, rough, desperate, fingers pressing into my jaw.

His lips crash against mine.

It’s definitely not soft. It’s not careful.

It’s hungry.

He kisses me like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been holding back for too damn long and he’s finally letting it all go.

His breath is hot against my skin, his lips parting against mine, tongue sliding in, and fuck—I don’t just let him.

I give in.

My hands find his waist, clutching at his shirt, yanking him closer until there’s nothing between us. He exhales sharply against my lips, his fingers threading into my hair, tugging, tilting my head back just enough to deepen the kiss.

A sound escapes me.

“Fuck, Isaac—”

He doesn’t let me finish. He swallows the words, presses me harder against him. My back hits the door. My head spins.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters against my mouth, voice rough, wrecked.

“Yeah?” I breathe, nipping at his lower lip, dragging my fingers down his back, feeling the way his muscles tense under my touch. “You know you like it.”

He laughs, but it’s breathless, and then he’s kissing me again, deeper, harder, like he’s trying to make up for every second we wasted not doing this.

His hands roam down my neck, across my shoulders, gripping my waist like he needs me closer, like close still isn’t close enough.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against my lips, but he doesn’t pull away.

I don’t even hesitate.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

I’m kissing him like I’ll lose my mind if I stop.

My head’s spinning, my body’s on fire, I don’t care.

I just need him. Need him now.

“I need you,” I rasp against his lips, my breath hot, uneven. “Right now.”

Isaac smirks against my mouth, his grip tightening just enough to make me shiver. “Not so fast.” His voice is smooth, teasing, but there’s something dark in his eyes, something that makes my stomach drop.

Before I can argue, he grabs me, strong hands, firm movements, and pushes me back onto the bed. My pulse spikes. His body hovers over mine for just a second, his breath fanning against my skin, before he pulls away completely.

Now he’s standing between my legs, looking at me like he owns the damn world.

Like he owns me .

My breath stutters, heat pooling low in my stomach. He’s in no rush, his gaze dragging over me, taking in every reaction, every sign of how much he’s messing with me.

And God, it’s working.

I run a hand down my face, trying to calm the fucking storm inside me. “You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?”

Isaac’s smirk deepens. He tilts his head, eyes glinting with amusement. “A little.”

I think I can cum just by watching him sitting between my legs like that.

He’s so freaking hot without even trying.

I groan, gripping the sheets, my body tense as hell. “You’re a menace, Nabokov”

He exhales a quiet laugh, like he’s barely holding back from making this worse. “Like you don’t love it.”

Before I know it, he pulls my boxers down, revealing my hard dick.

“I don’t like saying that, but just for this once, try to be quiet”. he whispers, and then he starts dragging his tongue from the very bottom of my dick , slowly all the way up to the tip.

Lord have mercy on my soul.

I need someone to pull me back to earth.

He finally puts it in his mouth, and he slowly moves his head back and forth, holding tight onto my thighs.

He begins sucking it faster, wrapping his hand around the part he couldn’t take in. I threw my head back in pleasure.

He keeps licking and sucking as if it was his last meal ever, and I uncontrollably roll my eyes back.

I clenched the bed sheets in my fists.

As he deep throats me, I can’t help but stare at him.

The way his lips curve as he holds that dick with such ease…

Lord I’m so gonna cry.

The whole time, his piercing light blue eyes stay on me too, like he is waiting to see just how long I can hold myself together.

“Does this feel good?” he dares to ask.

“You’re fucking unreal.”

“thought so. Take off your shirt” he orders me.

Without a second thought, I pull it over my head, letting it drop to the floor. My chest rises and falls, heat prickling my skin under his gaze.

“You have no idea how incredible you look right now”. He whispers.

“I don’t think I can hold it much longer” I manage to say, with my voice coming out broken. “That good, huh?” he sucks again in a teasing way.

“Stay with me for a bit longer.” He whispers but I’m already trying my best.

“Isaac, please, for the love of God, have sex with me already.”

The words slipped from my mouth on their own, raw and unfiltered, like I had no control over myself anymore.

Like I wasn’t even the one speaking.

“Oh you have no fucking idea how badly I want to.” His voice is low, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. He jumps right back at me, leaning in to my neck, giving me soft, wet kisses.

“Especially now. Now that I’ve heard you say it.”

“Then what are you waiting for.”

He lets out a low, frustrated sound, his forehead now pressing against mine. “We don’t have any… lube. Or something. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I stare at him, and then, without thinking, I move.

I pull my pants up and I shove off the bed so fast I nearly trip, my heart hammering as I rush for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Dean—?”

I don’t stop. I push into the hallway, feet moving before my brain can even catch up. I know exactly where I need to go.

Alex’s room.

I crack the door open as quietly as I can, peering inside.

He’s still asleep. Good.

I step in, moving slow, barely breathing as I grab my work bag, the one I hadn’t unpacked since I grabbed my stuff from Isaac’s place yesterday.

Please.

Please tell me I got it.

I yank the zipper open, rummaging through my things, my hands moving frantically. My heart pounds as I sift through books, receipts from work, a charger—

There it is.

Relief crashes over me so hard I almost laugh. I grab it, clutching it in my hand as I turn on my heel and slip back out of the room.

The second I step back into the room, Isaac’s eyes snap to me.

He’s still sitting on the bed, his hands clenched into fists like he’s been trying to physically restrain himself from following me.

I hold up the lube, breathing hard.

“You, impatient, horny, son of a bitch.” he whispers and I can’t help but laugh.

I shut the door behind me.

I sit up on the bed, breath unsteady. “Now Do it again,” I say. Then softer.

“Please.”

Isaac doesn’t hesitate. He moves in, Pressing his lips against my neck, again and again, like he can’t get enough, while he was playing with my dick at the same time.

His scent floods my senses—clean, intoxicating, him .

More. I need more .

Isaac pulls away, his breath warm against my skin, and settles between my legs. His hands rest on his thighs, steady, controlled.

“Can I touch you there?” he asks, voice low.

I meet his eyes, pulse hammering. My fingers twitch.

“Please do it.”

He smiles and grabs the lube bottle, wasting no time. I watch him as he squeezes some on his fingers.

“Lie back,” Isaac commands.

I obey instantly, leaning onto my elbows, my body tense beneath him.

Then he moves, coming on top of me. His left arm braces against the bed, steadying him, while his right hand goes down on me. Seconds later, I feel his finger inside of me.

And then another one. I let a small moan slip out, and he brings his lips on mine.

My breath stutters. Isaac starts curling his fingers, brushing over my prostate.

I’m currently seeing stars. I can’t handle it.

His fingers keep speeding up, and I squeeze my eyes trying so fucking hard not to cum.

“Look at you suffering. I love it.”

“I hate you.”

“I bet you do. Now cum for me.”

His words hit like a final blow, shattering the last of my restraint.

A huge load of cum shoots up and lands onto my stomach, even on my chest, while some of them stayed on my dick, dripping down on it.

My legs shake like crazy, and I feel my face literally burning. I’m still so freaking horny though.

Fuck.

I moved, and tried reaching for the towel on the nightstand. But before I could even lift my hand, Isaac’s fingers closed around my wrist, pulling it back down.

His grip was firm, like he wasn’t letting me go anywhere.

His hand kept my arm pressed to the bed, pinning me there like I was some kind of trapped animal.

I blinked, completely caught off guard by his sudden move.

“Did I say you were done?” Isaac’s voice was low, almost teasing.

He leaned in, his hands now resting in either side of my waist. Seconds later, his tongue was on me. I froze.

He started at the lowest drop, licking a straight line up my stomach, following the cum line like it was some kind of game. My muscles tensed under his touch.

“Fuck”  My voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

He didn’t stop. His mouth was warm, his tongue kept flicking over my skin, making sure to clean up every last bit.

God, thank you so much for bringing this freak into my miserable life.

He pulled back, licking his lips as if he’d just finished a damn dessert. His gaze met mine, amused.

“All clean,” he murmured, and I kept looking at him, speechless.

Before I could even react, Isaac’s hand was on my shoulder, spinning me around with a force that left me no chance to resist.

My chest hit the bed first. I barely had time to catch my breath when I felt him move above me, his body pressing down against mine, trapping me under him.

“Missed this?” he asks.

“Just fuck me already.”

“Beg for it.” he whispers in my ear and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine.

“Just do it. I’m begging.”

“I love how desperate you sound.”

This man will actually be the death of me.

He takes off his pants and boxers, throwing them next to me, and immediately grabs the bottle of lube, squirting a good amount on his freaking huge dick. “I want you to be quiet. I know it’s hard, but we don’t want to wake anyone up, do we?”

“We sure don’t. Give me the dick now.”

“You’re so impatient, I love it.”

Before I manage to say anything else, he slides it in, and I shove my head into the pillow in front of me. He lays on my back, putting his elbows on my sides.

He moves back and forth, before he’s able to push all the way in.

God, I could never get enough of this.

He covers my mouth with his hand. “This might hurt.” He starts moving faster, and it’s making my eyes roll back so hard, it’s almost painful.

He brings his lips down to my neck, leaving me a hickey. I might pass out tonight. “You’re taking me so well…” he whispers and I already feel like i’m gonna cum for the second time tonight.

Isaac’s hand shot up, gripping my neck, his fingers pressing against my skin, steadying himself.

I loved it. I enjoyed it so bad.

The way his fingers felt around my throat, how it made everything feel more intense, more real.

I could feel him going deeper, and hiding my moans was almost impossible now.

He kept hitting the spot, thrusting hard. “please don’t stop…” I managed to say, heavy breathing.

“If you keep talking like that, I don’t think I will be able to last any longer.”

The sensation of my body burning started to spread, while at the same time, I felt Isaac’s warmth on top of me, and I fucking loved it. It hurt, but the pleasure I felt was so much stronger than the pain.

“Can I go faster?” he asks and I nod.

He lined his hips back up, and started thrusting again, faster and, definitely harder.

“God, I fucking love riding you. I’m so close.” I don’t know how close he was, but I was definitely closer.

I grab the towel, placing it under my stomach.

Can’t afford leaving behind a blanket full of cum.

“Fill me up, Isaac.” I’m trying to whisper and suddenly, I feel Isaac’s body falling onto my back. His breathing became heavier, with a small moan coming out of him.

At the same time, I shoot a load of cum on the towel, feeling dizzy, almost like my body’s going through a pleasure-overdose. He goes as deep as he can, making sure his cum really stays inside of me.

We remain silent for a moment, both out of breath, with our legs shaking.

“Please don’t ever leave.” Isaac said, while still being inside of me.

“Oh I’d rather fucking die.” I reply, still trying to catch my breath.

71. -The Tough Guy-

Isaac

We’re in the bathroom.

I watched Dean as he cleaned his stomach, my eyes trailing over him without much thought at first.

But the more I looked, the more I noticed things I hadn’t really paid attention to before. The tattoos.

They were actually a lot. Big, too.

It was weird. A nerd like him, covered in ink?!

My gaze landed on his back, on the large tattoo spread across it, and something about it made my stomach twist, every single time.

It suited him.

Way too well.

“I love the back tattoo,” I said, voice quiet but firm. “Makes you look really hot.”

Dean barely reacted, just turned slightly toward the mirror, tilting his head like he was trying to see the tattoo himself. “You think?”

I nodded, certain. “Yeah.”

He hummed, running a hand over his shoulder. “Hurt like hell, though.”

That made me laugh. “Tell me about it. I’m covered in them. I know. “ My eyes flickered over his arms, his chest. “I just didn’t expect you to have so many. You’re supposed to be a nerd.”

Dean shot me a glare, unimpressed.

I grinned.

Dean’s eyes flickered to my arm, tracing the ink with his gaze.

“What do the Russian words mean?” he asked.

I glanced down at my own skin, then back at him.

“You’ve asked me that before,” I said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, maybe because I actually want to know?”

That pulled a small laugh out of me, unexpected. But it faded just as quickly.

For a second, I considered brushing it off again.

But something about tonight felt different.

For once, it didn’t feel impossible to say it out loud.

I exhaled slowly.

“—I’d trade my life for yours—” I murmured.

Dean stayed quiet, watching me.

“My mom used to say it. A lot . To me and Vera.” My fingers brushed over the ink absentmindedly.

“It was just something she always said, like a promise. A reassurance.” I huffed a small, humorless laugh.

“Of course, none of us thought it would actually happen.”

Dean’s face shifted, his brows pulling together.

“Vera has the exact same tattoo,” I added, voice quieter now.

Dean stares at me, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but the words don’t come.

His expression is unreadable, shocked, maybe even a little unsettled. And for once, he doesn’t have some quick remark or sarcastic comment ready.

He just looks at me, like he’s trying to understand something too big to put into words.

Then, he moves.

Before I can process it, his arms are around me, firm, grounding.

He pulls me in close, holding me, like it’s the only thing he can do right now.

And my body locks up. Just for a second. My breath catches, my chest tightens, and then it hits me.

The warmth. The weight of him. The way he fits against me.

My heart pounds against my ribs. It’s too much, too loud, too fast. I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard, but it is.

“Holy shit,” I breathe, barely above a whisper. “Is this the first time we’ve hugged?”

Dean makes a small, exasperated noise. “Just shut up and hug me.”

And I do.

I let myself sink into it. I let myself hold him back, grip his shirt a little too tightly.

I feel his heartbeat against mine, steady and sure, and I realize something terrifying. Something I should’ve known a long time ago.

“I’m so sorry Isaac… For the way I acted.”

I needed this.

I don’t know how long we stand there, wrapped up in each other, but I know one thing for sure.

I don’t want to let go.

A noise from the stairs makes us both jolt apart so fast it’s almost embarrassing.

Dean turns toward the sink, pretending to adjust his shirt.

I lean against the counter like I’ve been standing here all along, totally normal, totally casual, definitely not hugging my totally platonic roommate in a dimly lit bathroom.

Alex shuffles past the doorway, barely awake, his eyes half-lidded but somehow still managing to stare straight into our souls.

First at Dean.

Then at me.

Oh, shit.

Think, Isaac. Think.

“Uh, Dean was freaking out because he thinks one of his eyebrows is higher than the other. I was trying to reassure him.”

Dean’s head snaps toward me so fast I swear I hear his neck crack.

Alex just blinks. His face is completely unreadable, like his brain is buffering, struggling to process whatever the hell he just walked into. Then, he exhales through his nose and mumbles, “Do I look like I give a shit?”

And just like that, he keeps walking, disappearing down the hall like we don’t even exist.

I bite my lip hard to keep from bursting out laughing. My entire body is shaking with the effort.

Dean, however, does not find this as funny as I do.

He smacks my arm—hard. “Uneven eyebrows?! Are you kidding me?!”

I wheeze, doubling over. “What? It was believable!”

“It was humiliating!”

“Oh, come on. He doesn’t care!” I gesture vaguely toward the hallway. “He literally said so.”

Dean groans. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” I say, kissing him.

He sighs, giving me one last unimpressed glare before turning back to the sink. I catch the corner of his mouth twitching, like he’s trying not to laugh.

I consider that a win.

I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw him staring at himself in the mirror like he was trying to spot a flaw that wasn’t even there.

“Dean, you don’t actually have uneven eyebrows, you know?” I said, my voice dripping with amusement.

He froze for a second, caught off guard, before he turned to me with that half-smirk of his. “Are you sure? They feel… off now that you said it.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle more, shaking my head. “Trust me, you’re fine. I was obviously joking. Your eyebrows are perfect.”

I could see his relief, but he didn’t let it show too much, just muttered something under his breath as he looked back at himself in the mirror, like he was trying to find another problem to fix.

And then, perfect timing… Alex decided to walk back into the room.

He barely noticed us.

Without thinking, I grabbed Dean’s arm and yanked him into my room.

“Come on,” I whispered, pulling him inside, away from the possibility of Alex walking in and noticing anything.

Dean didn’t argue, following me, but I caught him glancing back at the door with a weird look on his face.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, though.

Whatever this was between us, it felt real, even if it wasn’t exactly the safest thing to be doing right now.

Dean

I stood there, trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

Isaac was looking at me with this strange excitement, like I was some kind of project.

It felt weird, this… tenderness between us.

Sure, we had sex so many times, shared plenty of moments that meant a lot to me, but this was…different.

There was something almost… innocent about it.

He yanked me down on the bed beside him, and I found myself not sure what to do.

It was just us, after everything, but this felt almost new.

It felt… strange. Not bad—just different.

We’d always been fire and gasoline, all sharp attraction and sharper fights. Every time we got close, it was either heat or chaos.

But this…this was quiet. Steady.

I never thought he’d be the type for this. And yet, here we were.

His arm draped lazily over me, his body relaxed in a way I’d never seen before.

It was new.

I could feel him looking at me, his gaze too intense.

And, of course, I couldn’t help but tease him.

“What are you looking at again? My eyebrows?” I snapped, trying to hide how flustered I felt.

Isaac laughed, his eyes sparkling like he was seeing me in a completely different way. “No, your hair,” he said, and before I could even process it, he was going on about how my hair was the perfect length for little pigtails—like ‘Boo’ from ‘Monsters, Inc’…

I was completely thrown off. “Are you serious right now?” I asked.

I got up, taking a step back.

But Isaac was already grabbing me, laughing, pulling me back toward him. “Please, let me try,” he pleaded.

I couldn’t even deal with him, shaking my head. “Just grow your own hair at this length if you’re so desperate.”

He wouldn’t back down, though. “It wouldn’t be the same,” he said, standing on the bed, right in front of me.

His hands were moving faster than my mind could catch up with, grabbing some hair ties and getting to work on my hair.

As he fiddled with my hair, I realized something—this wasn’t about pigtails or whatever the hell he was doing.

It was about Isaac, looking at me like I was someone worth his time.

It was like… he wanted me to know I mattered, even if it was just something silly like messing with my hair.

“Whatever happened to Isaac, -the tough guy-?” I said, my voice low, trying to hide the strange warmth that was spreading through my chest while I was looking directly in his eyes.

“The tough guy, finally feels loved. That’s what happened.”

My heart just smiled.

I didn’t know when it happened, but Isaac had turned something so simple into something that felt… safe, like I was exactly where I needed to be.

Finally, he stepped back to admire his work, looking me over with a proud grin on his face. “You look so hot,” he said, barely keeping in his laughter.

I stared at myself in the mirror, and… honestly?

I couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous I looked.

But then I turned toward Isaac, unable to keep the grin off my face. I stepped forward, giving him a playful shove on the shoulder.

“Shut up, man,” I said, even though my heart was pounding a little faster than usual.

“Oh I’d love to.” Isaac’s fingers curl around my wrist, and before I can tell him to knock it off, he pulls me toward him and kisses me.

And God help me I melt.

His lips press against mine. He tilts his head slightly, deepening it just enough to make my knees feel unsteady. His hand slides up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a way that makes my whole body hum with warmth.

I hate how much I love this. I hate how easily he does this to me, how one kiss from him makes everything else feel like background noise. I let my fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, holding him there for just a second longer.

When we finally break apart, he lingers close, his breath warm against my lips.

He smirks. “I’d pay to see Carter’s face if he could witness all the things I just did to you.”

I roll my eyes and shove his shoulder. “Forget that loser.”

His grin only widens. “Poor guy had no idea what he was up against.”

“You’re so full of yourself, Nabokov.”

“Honestly, I should thank that fucker. If he hadn’t been such an asshole and gotten out of the way, I’d be missing out.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Missing out on what, exactly?”

He grins, tilting his head. “On you, obviously. Can’t imagine my life without you, little angry ‘Boo’.”

I groan, shoving his shoulder. “Stop calling me that.”

Isaac just laughs, completely unfazed. “Never.”

I scoff. “You are absolutely insufferable.”

“Yet, here you are,” he points out, leaning in again like he’s daring me to do something about it. “Kissing me like I’m your last meal.”

I scowl, mostly because he’s not wrong. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I will.” He looks annoyingly smug, running a hand through his buzzed hair. “I mean, I managed to get you.”

“If anyone should be shocked, it’s me.” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “You?”

“Yeah, obviously.” I reply giving him a weighted look.

He folds his arms, tilting his head. “You really thought I was the one who wouldn’t stick around?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah? You don’t exactly have a history of commitment.”

Isaac hums like he’s considering it, then shrugs.

“That was true.” He meets my eyes then, and just like that, the teasing drops.

“Until I met you. Now, I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.”

I swallow, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

A beat of silence stretches between us before I shake my head. “You’re impossible.”

He grins. “I love you too.”

72. “Being In Love And All.”

The Next Morning - Dean

I rub my eyes, groaning as I slowly wake up. My body feels heavy, and for a second, I debate going back to sleep.

But then I get this weird feeling, like I’m being watched.

I blink a few times and roll onto my other side, only to freeze.

Alex is standing by the bed.

Staring.

Smiling.

I flinch so hard my back nearly hits the headboard. “What the hell?” My voice comes out rough with sleep, but the shock is enough to wake me up properly. Alex just keeps grinning, his eyes locked on me like he’s discovered something groundbreaking.

My stomach drops.

His gaze shifts slightly downward.

I follow it.

Shit.

I resist the urge to swear out loud when I realize what he’s looking at, what he’s probably been staring at this whole time.

The hickey on my neck.

Keeping my face as neutral as possible, I raise a hand and rub the side of my neck, covering it like I’m just stretching out some morning stiffness.

Maybe if I play it off, he won’t—

Alex’s mouth drops open. He slaps a hand over it, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“There’s no way,” he whispers, like he just witnessed something historic.

I glare at him and quickly shake my head, signaling him to shut up.

He does not shut up.

“Oh my God,” he mutters, clearly having the time of his life.

I groan, running a hand down my face. “Alex, drop it.”

“But—”

“Drop it,” I say more firmly, getting out of bed before he can dig his claws into this any further.

“We have more important things to deal with. Like, I don’t know, figuring out where the hell you’re gonna stay?”

That wipes the grin off his face.

I take the opportunity to escape, heading straight for the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, trying to wake up properly, then brush my teeth. When I step back out, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, Isaac is just leaving his room.

He catches my eye.

For a moment, we just look at each other. His lips twitch, and then…

He winks at me.

I huff out a quiet breath, shaking my head as I walk past him.

“Morning, kids. Sleep well?” Aunt Ivy asks as I step into the kitchen. She’s already got her coffee, sipping it leisurely at the table.

“Wonderfully,” Isaac says, flashing her a warm smile. “Thanks again for everything.”

She pats his shoulder, her expression soft. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Alex, meanwhile, is still standing in the doorway, watching me like he’s waiting for me to break.

I ignore him.

Aunt Ivy hums as she takes another sip of her coffee, glancing between the three of us like she can sense something is up. Luckily, she doesn’t ask any weird questions.

I pull out a chair and sit down, rubbing my face. My brain still feels like it’s playing catch-up, but I know we need to start making a plan.

“So,” I say, finally looking at Alex. “We need to figure out where you’re staying.”

Alex sighs, sliding into the chair across from me. “I know.”

Isaac leans against the counter, arms crossed. “You can’t go back to your dad’s.”

“Yeah…,” Alex mutters. “But I don’t exactly have a long list of options.”

Aunt Ivy sets her mug down with a quiet clink. “You know, sweetheart, I was thinking… your dad needs help. Real help.”

Alex stiffens. “Yeah, well. Good luck convincing him of that.”

I frown, feeling a familiar tightness in my chest. “He’s not gonna stop on his own,” I say. “And the longer this goes on, the worse it’s gonna get.”

“Maybe he needs rehab,” Isaac says bluntly.

Alex exhales through his nose. I can tell he doesn’t disagree, but he looks tired, like the thought of dealing with it is already exhausting. “Yeah. I know.”

Aunt Ivy watches him carefully. “If you boys want, I can help look into places for him. There are programs—some better than others, but it’s worth a shot.”

Alex hesitates, shifting in his seat. “I mean… I guess that’d be good.”

I reach over, squeezing his shoulder. He nods once, barely noticeable, but I know it means he appreciates it.

Isaac speaks up again. “In the meantime… you should come with us.”

Alex blinks at him. “What?”

“You can stay at our place,” Isaac says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “At least until we figure something else out.”

Alex’s mouth opens slightly, but he doesn’t say anything right away.

I can tell he wasn’t expecting that.

Isaac shrugs. “You need to be somewhere safe. We have space. It’s not a big deal.”

Alex looks at me, almost like he’s waiting for my reaction.

I look confused too. “I mean, it’s not my house, don’t look at me like I can decide.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Isaac says, crossing his arms again.

Alex exhales, rubbing the back of his head. “Damn… I mean, yeah. If you guys are sure.”

Isaac smirks. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure.”

Alex lets out a breath, then grins. “Well, in that case…” He leans back in his chair. “Honestly? After Aunt Ivy’s, your place is my favorite.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, dude. It’s always chill there. And your couch? Best couch I’ve ever napped on.”

Isaac snorts. “That’s because it’s technically a bed.”

“Explains a lot.”

Aunt Ivy smiles, shaking her head. “Well, sounds like we’ve got a plan, then. But let’s eat first, yeah?”

Isaac moves to help aunt Ivy with some plates she couldn’t reach, and Alex starts rambling about how he’s a ‘great’ houseguest.

I just lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly.

This is probably not the perfect solution.

But for now, it’s good enough.

2 Hours Later - Dean

Alex was already at the car.

I could tell he was super hyped.

Probably tired of being cooped up at my aunt’s place for so long.

Or not. I don’t know.

Isaac was right behind me as I grabbed my bag and stepped off the house. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual for him, but something about the way he carried himself now felt… off.

When we reached the car, I was about to open the passenger door when Isaac suddenly stopped.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

I turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He glanced back at the house. “Forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

Before I could question him, he was already moving.

I frowned.

Forgot something? He hadn’t brought much with him in the first place. His keys were in his hand, and his phone, well, his phone was right there in his back pocket.

Alex leaned against the car, arms crossed. “What’s he doing?”

“No idea” I muttered, watching the front door like I could see through it.

A minute passed. Then another.

Finally, the door creaked open again, and Isaac stepped out.

His expression was unreadable as he shut the door behind him and made his way back to us. He didn’t look at me as he passed, just walked straight to the driver’s side and got in like nothing had happened.

Alex shrugged, already hopping into the backseat, but I hesitated for a second before following.

As soon as I shut the door, I glanced at him. “What’d you forget?”

Isaac didn’t answer right away. He started the engine, his fingers gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. “Nothing important.”

That was a freaking lie.

I narrowed my eyes. “Then why’d you go back?”

He kept his gaze forward as he pulled out onto the road, his jaw shifting slightly like he was debating whether to tell me or not.

“I just had to make sure of something.”

That wasn’t an answer, and he knew it.

But the way he said it, made it clear that I wasn’t getting anything else out of him.

Not right now, anyway.

I clenched my jaw but let it go, turning my gaze out the window.

We arrived at our dad’s.

The house looked the same. Dark, and uninviting.

Wine bottles littered the porch, the light above the door flickered weakly.

I’m so embarrassed of my dad.

“Stay here.” I say but Isaac doesn’t stop walking.

“Why?”

“In case he’s inside.”

Isaac scoffed. “So what? He yells at me? Big deal.”

I sighed. “I just don’t want a scene. Alex, let’s grab our stuff and go.”

Isaac didn’t budge. “I’m coming in.”

I clenched my jaw but didn’t argue.

No point, he wasn’t going to listen.

Alex was already at the door, shifting impatiently

I unlocked it and pushed it open, bracing myself. But the house was silent.

Alex peeked inside, then grinned. “YAY, he’s not here.”

I exhaled. Isaac shut the door behind us.

“Maybe he finally left for good,” Alex said, hopeful.

I didn’t answer. I wanted to believe that, but I knew better.

“Let’s just get our stuff,” I muttered.

We moved quickly, grabbing our clothes and bags.

Isaac leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “So, what’s the after plan?”

I glanced at him. “The after plan?”

“For Alex. You can’t let him go back.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, what he said.”

I hesitated.

The truth was, I didn’t have a plan. And I felt like shit about it.

Isaac must’ve noticed because his voice softened. “You don’t have to worry. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

I swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. We will.”

“Aw look at you guys being in love and all. This is honestly inspiring. If Dean can find love, there’s hope for literally everyone.”

“Keep talking, Alex, and I’ll let you find out what it’s like to sleep on the street, you little shit.”

“Damn, you Clarks really should get your own show. I’d watch it. Maybe not recommend it to anyone, but still.” Isaac says while opening the door, ready to leave the house.

We locked up behind us and got back in the car.

He started the engine and pulled away.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like we were leaving for good.

Isaac

Stepping into my place felt like taking a breath after being underwater too damn long.

No tension, no bullshit, just home.

The second Dean walked through the door, Nala launched herself at him like he’d been gone for months.

He laughed, crouching down as she smothered him with licks. “Okay, okay, I missed you too, and you got so much prettier” he chuckled, scratching behind her ears.

She wagged her tail like crazy, shoving her head into his hands.

“Bet she forgot all about you the second you walked out,” I teased, dropping Dean’s bag by the couch.

Dean shot me a look. “Shut up, she loves me.”

I smirked. “Yeah, yeah. She loves whoever gives her the most attention.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

I rolled my shoulders, heading for my room to grab some clean clothes. “I’m taking a shower.”

Dean, the little shit, barely missed a beat. “Cool. I’ll go do the dishes then.”

I stopped mid-step. My eyes snapped to him.

He smirked. And then, because he’s a menace, he actually had the audacity to wink at me.

I do the wing part.

He’s such a copycat.

I glared. Hard.

Dean just laughed, walking off like he didn’t just dig his own grave.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Kidding. I’m gonna take a shower too. After you I meant, of course, so, hurry up.” Dean said.

He’s so cute when he’s nervous.

1 Hour Later - Isaac

I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

“So? You ever use those markers I brought you from Russia, or did you just let ’em rot in a drawer?”

Alex scoffed like I just insulted his entire existence. “Obviously, I used them.” He grabbed his backpack off the floor, dug around, and pulled out a sketchbook.

“Check this out.”

He flipped to a page and held it out. It was a drawing of some sci-fi-looking city, all neon signs and crazy angles, colors blending smooth as hell.

Okay, I’d give it to him, kid had talent.

I barely glanced at it before shaking my head. “Yeah, that’s trash.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

I smirked. “Nah, for real. Straight-up garbage. You should probably quit now.”

“Oh yeah?” He snapped the sketchbook shut. “Bet you’d do even worse.”

That made me laugh.

“You’re challenging me? You serious?”

“Dead serious.” He slid the markers across the table. “Go on. Prove me wrong.”

I grabbed a sheet of paper and sat down. “Alright, watch and learn, loser.”

Dean walked over, peeking over my shoulder as I started sketching. I hadn’t even gotten halfway through before I realized it looked like absolute shit.

Lines all over the place, colors smudging together like a kid’s finger painting. I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head.

Alex leaned in, already grinning. “Dude. That’s terrible .”

I grinned back. “Shut up, I’m getting warmed up.”

Dean, on the other hand, straight-up lost it. “Damn, Isaac, what the actual hell is that?”

I turned the paper around, pretending to admire it. “Art.”

Dean snorted. “That’s an insult to art.”

I tossed the marker at him, laughing. “Like you could do better.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I would do better. Unlike you, I actually know how to draw and sketch.”

I smirked. “Oh, right. I forgot we’ve got a nerd in the house.”

Dean shoved my shoulder, but I barely moved.

Alex, meanwhile, was almost crying from laughter on the couch.

“Damn, Dean,” he wheezed. “He really got you there.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help grinning. “Whatever. You both suck.”

Yeah.

This was exactly how I wanted it to be.

73. Can I Be Yours?

10 Days Later - Dean

I wake up feeling lighter than usual, like there’s something good about today.

And there is.

It’s my birthday.

It’s nothing huge—I’m not expecting a party or anything—but I like the idea of celebrating in my own way.

I want to take Alex and Isaac out for food, just something simple. I just want to be with them.

I sit up, stretching, and hear movement from Alex’s room.

He’s up early, like always. A second later, he steps out, already dressed for school, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” I say, grinning at him.

“Morning,” he mumbles, heading straight for the kitchen.

I wait for it.

The moment he realizes.

Any second now, he’s gonna turn around, eyes wide, and—

…

Nothing.

He just grabs a piece of toast and starts eating like it’s any other day.

I blink.

Okay, maybe he’s still waking up. I give it another few seconds.

Still nothing.

“You sleep okay?” I try, hoping to jog his memory.

“Yeah, gotta run now. I will miss the bus.” he says through a mouthful of toast. Then he checks the time, grabs his bag, and moves toward the door.

And that’s it. He’s leaving. No “Happy birthday, Dean!” No “Hey, you’re one year closer to death!” Nothing.

It’s not like I expected a grand gesture, but—come on.

For a second, I feel a tiny flicker of disappointment.

But then I shake it off.

Alex has been dealing with a lot. His mind’s probably on a hundred different things.

He wouldn’t forget on purpose.

“It’s fine,” I tell myself. “Isaac won’t forget.”

I glance at my phone, half-expecting a text from him already.

Nothing yet.

Well. He’s probably still asleep.

I take a deep breath, push the weird feeling away, and decide—whatever. It’s still my birthday, and I’m still getting food with my favorite people.

This is gonna be a good day.

As I step out of my room and head toward the bathroom, I nearly collide with Isaac in the hallway. He stops, staring at me with wide eyes.

For a split second, excitement flutters in my chest.

He remembered.

A grin spreads across my face as I open my arms, already expecting him to say it, to come over and pull me into one of those rough, half-assed hugs of his.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

My smile drops so fast it almost hurts.

Oh.

I glance down at myself, suddenly noticing the slightly looser fit, the familiar scent clinging to the fabric. Right.

“Oh, um—yeah. I must’ve mixed it up with mine by accident. Sorry,” I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

Isaac just scoffs lightly, like he doesn’t care, and walks away.

That’s it. No birthday wish. No reaction. Nothing.

For a moment, I just stand there, my arms limp at my sides, staring at where he was a second ago.

That was… embarrassing.

A weird, uncomfortable weight settles in my chest, pressing down just enough to sting.

But whatever. It’s still early.

Who thinks about birthdays first thing in the morning? No one.

Right?

Right.

1 Hour Later

My stomach twists, but I push it down. Maybe he’s planning something. Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment. Maybe.

I let out a slow breath and pull on my jacket.

Whatever.

I have class. Can’t be late.

As I grab my bag, I glance at Isaac. He’s sitting on the couch, phone in his hands, completely focused on whatever he’s looking at.

I hesitate.

“…You need anything before I go?”

Isaac lifts his gaze, locking onto mine. For a second, something flickers in his expression, something unreadable, but before I can figure it out, he’s standing up and stepping toward me.

Then, he kisses me.

It’s soft, slow. The kind of kiss that usually means I care about you.

The kind that makes my chest feel warm, makes my fingers twitch with the urge to pull him closer.

He remembered.

I almost smile. I almost let myself believe it.

Then he pulls away, looks me right in the eyes, and says—

“Have a nice day.”

And just like that, it all crashes down.

My throat tightens. I swallow hard and force my voice to stay even.

“Thanks,” I say, flat.

Then I turn and walk out the door before he can see the look on my face.

Isaac

I run a hand over my buzzed hair, forcing myself to breathe.

“I’m begging you, just make this happen.”

The phone is pressed between my shoulder and ear as I stand at the kitchen counter, filling out some paperwork.

The lady on the other end of the line, calm and professional as always, makes me want to throw something.

“Mr. Nabokov, I understand your urgency, but these things take time—”

“Time is exactly what I don’t have,” I snap. “We’ve been pushing this for days. I’ve done everything. I’ve paid literally everyone. And you told me I’d get the final result today. So where is it?”

There’s a pause. Papers rustling.

“…It’s done.”

I freeze.

“The paperwork has been finalized, and I’m sending you the documents as we speak.”

A notification pops up on my laptop.

My hands are shaking as I open the file, scanning the words that finally, finally make it real.

For the first time in days, I let myself exhale.

My head drops forward, forehead pressing against the counter.

“Mr. Nabokov?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

“The confidentiality clause was enforced as you requested. Dean Clark hasn’t been contacted at any stage of the process.”

“Good.” My voice is rough. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll be available if you need anything else.”

I hang up before she can say anything else. My heart is racing.

It’s done.

I let myself sit with that for a second, just one, before picking up my phone again and calling Aria.

“Yeah?” she answers immediately.

“It’s done.”

She sucks in a breath. “Holy shit. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I have the papers. Everything’s official. Dean doesn’t know yet.”

Aria exhales. “Damn, Isaac. You really pulled it off.”

“Of course, I did.”

I hear the smile in her voice. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

I smirk. “You’ll see.”

She groans. “You know I hate surprises.”

“You’re not the one I’m surprising.”

She mutters something under her breath, then sighs. “Fine, fine. But whatever it is, you better not fuck it up.”

“I won’t. Gotta go now. See you tonight.”

I hang up.

Alright. Everything is in place.

Dean is so not ready for tonight.

Dean

The whole class was a blur. I could barely focus on anything. My mind kept drifting back to Isaac.

Something felt off lately…

He’d been distant, pulling away.

Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I pissed him off somehow.

Maybe he’s mad that Alex is still here, living with us. Maybe I’m just a burden to him.

I rubbed my face, trying to shake off the thoughts.

But they wouldn’t go away. The more I thought about it, the worse it got. I was feeling… empty.

When class ended, I just couldn’t wait to get out of there. As I walked out, I heard a voice that stopped me in my tracks.

“Happy birthday.”

I turned around, a little confused.

It was Carter.

Freaking Carter.

The first person who said “Happy birthday” to me today.

I felt my shoulders slump, and I lowered my head, my heart sinking.

“Thanks. Really,” I muttered, barely looking up.

But Carter must’ve noticed something in my voice.

“Why do you look like that? It’s like I’m the first person to tell you.”

Before I could say anything, Max appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around Carter’s shoulders.

Ew.

I laughed, but it was cold. A bitter sound that felt wrong coming out of me.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, letting out a sigh. “Thanks, though. Max.”

I kept my voice flat, not letting any of the frustration slip through.

I turned and walked away, trying not to let the disappointment show.

What a day.

At least Katie would remember.

I sat in the car, trying to ignore the fact that my cheating ex was the first and only person to remember my birthday.

It stung more than I wanted to admit, but I refused to let it get to me.

I started the engine and got off to work.

I was kinda embarrassed to go empty handed though, especially now that it was my birthday.

That’s when I saw it, the bakery. I couldn’t help but smile.

I parked the car on the side of the road without thinking twice and walked in.

I picked out a few sweet treats, some cakes, cookies, and pastries, and bought them all. I figured I could share them with the people I worked with at the restaurant.

They deserved it.

When I finally got to the restaurant, I walked in, holding the bag in my hand. I was genuinely excited to do something nice for them.

As I walked in, Katie greeted me with a warm hug.

She noticed the bag right away.

“Oh, thank God you brought sweets.” she said, her face lighting up. “I’m starving, dude. But we’ve got to get to work. Hurry up, it’s chaos today.”

I exhaled slowly, a sigh escaping my lips. “Yeah, I got it,” I muttered, feeling the weight of the day pulling at me again.

I walked over to the counter and set the bag down.

I give up.

Later That Night - Dean

I step inside the house, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on me.

There’s no Isaac, no Alex, just the quiet emptiness of the house.

I swallow hard, the knot in my stomach tightening. Of course. Of course they’re not here.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath.

“Just great. Guess I’m the only one who remembers today.”

I walk toward the hallway, trying to shake off the feeling of loneliness settling in. My eyes catch something on the floor.

A note.

I pick it up, my heart sinking a little more with each word.

“We spilled something on the hallway rug before we went to the market. It’s on the roof drying. If you get a chance, can you grab it once it’s dry?”

I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes my lips.

Seriously?

Now, of all times, this?

I stare at the note, fighting the urge to throw it across the room.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, my voice barely audible. “This is… this is just the way it is, huh? No one gives a damn about how I feel.”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep it together, but it’s getting harder.

I slip off my shoes and drop my bag in my room, then head for the stairs to the roof. Might as well get this over with.

I’m halfway up when my mind drifts again, this time to Isaac. To the way things used to be, the way things used to feel.

And yet, here I am. Alone. Again.

I reach the door to the roof, open it, and step out, the cool air hitting me like a slap in the face.

I close the door softly behind me, then…

A loud noise. A thud.

My heart races as I spin around, hoping—praying it’s just the rug.

Maybe it fell down.

Maybe it’ll be lost, and I won’t have to deal with it at all.

But when I turn right, my breath catches in my throat.

There, standing before me, is a sight I never expected.

My heart stops for a second.

“Surprise!”

I freeze.

The world seems to slow down.

The faces of Aria, Liam, Mia, Alex, Katie… and Isaac.

All of them standing there, grinning like idiots, waiting for me.

I can’t move.

I was so sure… so sure I was alone in this.

The weight of everything crashes down on me.

There’s too much happening at once, arms wrapping around me, bodies crashing into mine, warmth pressing from every side, and all I can do is stand there, frozen in shock as the weight of it all crashes over me.

They didn’t forget.

They didn’t forget.

A choked laugh escapes me, and suddenly, I’m grinning so hard my face hurts. “You absolute assholes!” I bark, shaking my head as they squeeze me tighter. “I actually thought you all forgot!”

Aria’s head bumps against my shoulder as she clings to me. “That was the point, idiot!” she cackles.

“I hate you all,” I grumble, but it comes out soft, full of warmth, because I don’t mean it, not even a little bit. My chest feels too full, too light.

I pull them closer. All of them. I hold onto them.

When I pull back, my eyes land on Katie, and confusion flickers through me. “Wait—weren’t you supposed to be running to the doctor?”

She giggles, shaking her head. “Of course not! That was just an excuse! I felt so bad pretending I didn’t remember your birthday, my love. I’m so sorry!” she says, wrapping her arms around me again.

Alex chimes in from the side, smirking. “Yeah, honestly? I felt bad too. Watching you mope around this morning was depressing.”

The others laugh, and I roll my eyes, but there’s no real bite to it.

The warmth in my chest is spreading, filling every inch of me, making my skin buzz.

The panic, the exhaustion, the disappointment from earlier, it’s all gone, replaced by something bigger, something better.

And then, in the middle of the chaos, my eyes find Isaac.

He’s standing a little off to the side, watching me with that stupid, lopsided grin of his. His eyes crinkle just slightly, soft, teasing.

My breath catches.

Before I can say anything, he steps forward and pulls me into his arms. My body melts into his without thinking, my hands gripping the back of his shirt.

His voice is low, almost drowned out by the noise around us. “Happy birthday, Clark.”

This might be the best birthday I’ve ever had.

Alex shifted on his feet, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “Alright, I’m heading out,” he announced, then shot me a look. “I’ll leave you and your grown-up friends to do… whatever boring adult stuff you do.”

He hesitated, then cleared his throat, glancing down. “…I actually have a… meeting. With a, uh… friend.”

Isaac, who had been leaning casually against the wall, hummed. “A friend, huh?”

Alex’s shoulders tensed immediately. “Yeah. A friend.”

Isaac grinned, tilting his head. “Funny. You look like a guy who’s about to meet someone he really likes.”

Alex scowled, but his ears turned red, dead giveaway.

He muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch, but it was enough for Isaac to look unbearably smug.

I sighed, placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder, bringing him back to me. “Go. Have fun. But, Alex—” My voice dipped, just enough to make sure he really heard me. “Promise me you’re not gonna pull any disappearing acts again.”

His expression sobered, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

He gave me a small nod. “I promise.”

I studied him for a second longer, then gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go. “Good. Now get out of here before Isaac starts giving you dating advice.”

Isaac gasped dramatically. “Excuse you, I give excellent dating advice.”

Alex rolled his eyes but was already halfway out the door, shaking his head as he muttered, “God help me.” he said and made his way down the stairs.

Mia’s music hums through the rooftop, the bass low enough to feel in my chest but not loud enough to drown out our laughter.

Liam, still wiping champagne off his shirt, groans. “Okay, maybe that bottle had a little more pressure than I expected.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mia snickers, raising her drink to him. “But an entertaining idiot.”

Aria is curled up in one of the chairs, sipping lazily from her glass. “So, birthday boy,” she calls out, smirking. “How does it feel to officially be one year closer to back pain and blood pressure pills?”

I scoff, raising my own drink. “Joke’s on you, I’ve had back pain since I was sixteen.”

Laughter ripples through the group, and I glance around at them.

Isaac is sitting next to me, legs stretched out, one arm draped casually over the back of my chair.

His fingers brush against my shoulder every now and then, not quite deliberate, but not entirely accidental either.

He looks completely at ease, smirking at something Katie just said, his confidence effortless as always.

It’s ridiculous how someone can look so sharp and in control even while lounging on a rooftop drinking cheap beer.

Katie leans in. “Alright, be honest, were you actually upset this morning when we pretended to forget?”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously! You guys were too convincing. I was ready to write all of you out of my will.”

“Good thing you don’t own anything valuable,” Liam quips, earning a shove from me.

Isaac chuckles beside me, his voice low and amused. “Oh, come on, Clark. You really thought I’d forget?”

I glance at him, and something in my chest flips at the way he’s looking at me.

I shake my head, unable to hide my grin. “Guess I should’ve known better.” I reply, taking a sip from my drink.

He clinks his beer bottle against mine. “Damn right.”

Later that night, we had all settled into the seating area on the rooftop, nestled under the string lights.

The air was cool, the city lights stretched out beyond us, and the buzz of alcohol and laughter made everything feel lighter.

Isaac had taken over the corner of the couch, legs stretched out, one arm now draped lazily along the backrest.

I was half-reclined against him, too comfortable to care.

He was absentmindedly running his fingers through my hair, and I wasn’t about to stop him. Across from us, Aria and Katie were curled up with their legs tangled, Liam was leaning back against the armrest, and Mia looked like she had no plans to move anytime soon.

Somehow, the conversation drifted to how this all started—when I first moved in.

“Honestly, I still can’t believe you two live together,” Liam said, shaking his head.

“Considering how much you hated each other at first.”

“Hated is an understatement,” Aria added. “Dean was ready to murder you in your sleep.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “He was a nightmare.”

Isaac scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You literally told me to get out the second I walked through the door.”

“You were annoying.”

“You threatened me, man.”

Isaac smirked, completely unrepentant. “Yeah. And you still didn’t leave.”

“I had nowhere else to go!”

The group laughed, and Isaac just shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Okay, but let’s not act like you were the only problem, Clark,” he continued. “You were so uptight when you first moved in. I mean, Jesus, it was like living with a fucking hall monitor.”

I gaped at him. “I was not a hall monitor!” “Dude, you had, like, a mental breakdown over me leaving my shoes in the hallway.”

“I tripped over them!”

“Not my fault you don’t watch where you’re going,” Isaac said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, but the truth was, looking back, it was hilarious how we had gone from that to… whatever this was now.

“I thought for sure one of you would end up killing the other,” Aria said.

“Honestly? Same,” I admitted.

“Oh, I would’ve,” Isaac said casually. “But then you had to go and grow on me.”

I scoffed. “Tragic.”

Katie laughed. “Still better than Carter, though.”

At the mention of his name, Isaac made a disgusted face. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Liam chuckled. “Dude, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hate someone as much as you hated Carter. And honestly, I get it. I’m Carter’s biggest hater. Not even because I was jealous or something. This dude was just a pain in the ass.”

“True, he was insufferable,” Isaac said immediately. “Like, I genuinely don’t understand how you put up with him for as long as you did, Clark.”

“Trauma,” I deadpanned, making them laugh.

“I can’t believe you two actually fought,” Aria said, shaking her head.

Isaac stretched his arms behind his head. “Couldn’t be helped. He earned it.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto my lips. “You really do love punching people, huh?”

Isaac smirked down at me. “Only the ones who deserve it.”

Liam shook his head, chuckling. “Man, it’s actually insane how different everything is now. Like, I don’t think any of us could’ve predicted this.”

“No way,” Katie agreed. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

I looked around at them, at these people who had somehow become my family.

“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling the warmth of Isaac’s arm against me, the sound of laughter still lingering in the air. “Me neither.”

We all knew it was time to wrap things up, but no one really wanted to be the first to say it.

Eventually, though, Liam stretched and stood up, which set off a chain reaction.

Everyone groaned as they pushed themselves off the couches, the lazy comfort of the night reluctantly fading.

Aria, in her usual grace, nearly tripped over her own feet, stumbling forward with a startled yelp. Liam caught her arm, laughing. “Jesus, Aria. Already drunk off sleep?”

She swatted him, but everyone chuckled as we gathered our things.

One by one, we exchanged hugs, lingering just a second longer than usual.

The warmth of the night, the alcohol, the comfort of good company, it made everything feel softer, like we were all reluctant to let go of this moment.

I ran a hand through my hair, looking at all of them. “Seriously… thank you. For everything. I mean it.”

Katie gave me a quick hug. “You deserve it, Dean.”

“Happy birthday, man,” Liam said, clapping my back.

Aria kissed my cheek before leaving the house.

We stayed watching as they all piled into their rides home, waving until they were out of sight.

And then, silence.

The door clicked shut, and before I could turn around, Isaac’s hands were on me.

A sudden, intense kiss—one that stole my breath, left my thoughts scrambling to catch up.

His grip was firm, grounding, his lips pressing against mine like he’d been waiting all night.

I barely had time to react before he pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his expression unreadable but his gaze burning.

“Follow me.” he ordered.

My stomach flipped.

“What?”

Isaac just arched a brow, completely unfazed. “You heard me.”

And, without thinking, I obeyed.

I watch Isaac walk into his room, a quiet command in his voice, telling me to stay outside.

I stand there for a moment, slightly confused, but I do as he asks. The seconds stretch, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s up to.

Just as I’m about to knock, the door creaks open, and Isaac emerges, his hands hidden behind his back.

“Go to the rooftop,” he orders, voice low but firm.

I smile, already knowing this is going to be interesting. “Damn, you’re scaring me. You laugh weird,” I tease, watching his smile stretch just a little too wide.

He doesn’t say anything but just walks ahead, and I follow, my curiosity bubbling up.

We make our way back up to the rooftop, and this time, we sit on the couch face to face.

The cool breeze stirs his black oversized shirt, the fabric fluttering in the air.

The city lights reflect off the small, silver hoops in his ears, just like his eyes—they’re almost too bright tonight.

Something about him is off, though.

He’s… nervous? It’s a rare thing to see in Isaac.

Slowly, he pulls his hand from behind his back, and I blink in surprise when I see what’s in his hand:

a large envelope.

“What’s this?” I ask, catching it as he hands it over, my eyes scanning his face for any clues.

“Open it,” he says, his voice steady but with an edge of something I can’t quite place.

I hesitate, but then I carefully pull the flap open. Inside are three smaller envelopes, each with a number written on the front.

I look up at Isaac, feeling a jolt of unease mixed with excitement. “You’re scaring me, Isaac.”

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “They have numbers. I want you to open them in the order they say.”

I look at the envelopes again, then back at Isaac, my heart racing.

This was… unexpected.

But something in me couldn’t help but grin. Isaac had put this together for me.

“Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got for me,” I say, barely containing my excitement as I get ready to follow his instructions.

My hands shook as I pulled the papers from the folder, my chest tightening with something sharp and suffocating.

There were so many pages, legal documents, signatures, official seals, but none of it made sense at first.

My eyes darted over the words, trying to piece them together, trying to understand what I was even looking at.

And then I saw it.

A name.

Alex.

My breath caught in my throat.

My head snapped up to Isaac, heart pounding, but he just watched me in that quiet, steady way of his, waiting.

No. No, this couldn’t be—

I forced my gaze back down, my fingers gripping the papers so tightly they crumpled at the edges.

I read the words again, and again, and again, my mind refusing to process them, refusing to believe that they meant what I thought they did.

But they did.

The custody of Alex had been officially transferred to Aunt Ivy.

I inhaled sharply, the air catching in my lungs.

My ears were ringing. My pulse was deafening.

I flipped through the pages in a frenzy, looking for some kind of mistake, some fine print that said this wasn’t real.

But it was. It was real. It was done.

My knees felt weak.

I had fought for this—I had prayed for this, screamed for this, begged for this.

And yet, deep down, I had never truly believed it would happen.

Not like this. Not so soon.

I looked up at Isaac again, my vision blurring at the edges. “You—” My voice barely came out, cracking under the weight of it all. “How…?”

His expression didn’t waver. He just reached out, his fingers brushing over mine, grounding me. “I told you,” he murmured, quiet but certain. “I’d take care of it.”

I swallowed hard, my whole body trembling.

Because he had.

He had really, really done it.

And I didn’t even know how to breathe.

“Open the next one.”

My hands were already unsteady as I reached for the second folder. My chest was still tight from the first, still trying to process the impossible thing Isaac had just done, so when my fingers hovered over the edge of the next envelope, I hesitated.

What the hell could possibly be in this one?

I swallowed hard, forcing my fingers to move, forcing myself to slide the papers out.

At first glance, they looked just as overwhelming as the last, more documents, more legal-looking text.

My eyes flickered over the words, my mind scrambling to put the pieces together.

I could feel my throat constricting, the air thick with disbelief as my eyes scanned the words in front of me.

A rehabilitation center?

My dad…was finally away from here.

When… where… Isaac, how? Why?

The questions rang in my head, but none of them seemed to matter.

He had done this for me, without a single word, without asking for anything in return.

My mind was racing, trying to process it, but the feeling that hit me the hardest was… how little I knew him.

All this time, he’d carried something for me, something big, and I’d never known.

I could barely breathe, my heart racing, pounding so loudly in my chest that I thought Isaac might hear it too.

How could I have missed this? How could I have been so blind to him?

When I glanced up, I saw Isaac sitting there, his face almost unreadable, but there was something in his eyes.

Something like amusement, but there was a depth to it too, something that made the air between us feel thicker, heavier.

He was watching me unravel with an almost detached curiosity.

I wanted to scream, to ask him everything, but instead, I reached for the third envelope, my fingers trembling, my pulse racing.

What else? What could possibly be in there?

Isaac was waiting for me to open it, and I had no choice.

I had to know. I needed to.

My breath caught in my throat as I tore open the envelope, the anticipation making my hands shake even more.

I pulled the papers from the folder, my heart slamming against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

I expected—what? A lease extension? A farewell letter? Something temporary, something logical.

But this… this was something else entirely.

My brain refuses to process what I was seeing.

Permanent cohabitation agreement .

My name. Isaac’s name.

The phrasing wasn’t legalistic, not cold or detached, it was personal.

Emotional .

A promise disguised as paperwork.

My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the silence of the room.

Was this real? Was I dreaming?

The weight of the paper in my hands said no. The warmth of Isaac’s gaze, watching me with quiet, nervous anticipation, said no.

My stomach twisted, my breath shallow and uneven. Every fear, every doubt, every moment I’d told myself that I was just passing through his life shattered in an instant.

This wasn’t a short-term arrangement.

It wasn’t a kindness that had an expiration date. It was a declaration, an invitation, an undeniable, overwhelming choice.

Isaac wasn’t just letting me stay.

He was telling me that I belonged here. With him. For as long as I wanted.

A lump formed in my throat.

My fingers clenched around the edges of the paper.

No one had ever… no one had ever done something like this for me.

I lifted my eyes to Isaac, my chest so tight it hurt.

He looked at me with that quiet, steady patience of his, like he’d wait forever for me to find the words.

But how could I? How could I possibly explain what this meant?

I had spent so much of my life afraid of being temporary. And now, in my hands, was proof that someone saw me as permanent.

“Dean… I don’t even know where to begin. From the moment you walked into my life, everything changed. I had spent so long feeling lost, like I was just drifting through the days without any real direction. I built walls around myself, convinced that if I kept my distance, I’d be safe from disappointment, from pain. And then, there was you. You tore down those walls without even trying. You just… you walked in, and suddenly, I wasn’t alone anymore.”

“You saved me, Dean. You pulled me out of a life I didn’t even realize was suffocating me. You showed me what it means to be seen, to be cared for, to be wanted. And I know I don’t always say it the way I should, but God, I need you. More than I’ve ever needed anything.”

“I will do whatever it takes to protect what we have. I did, I do, and I will fight every battle, clear every obstacle, tear down anything that dares to stand between us—because you are everything to me. I want to be your anchor when the world feels like it’s dragging you under. I want to be the rope that pulls you back when you feel trapped, the voice that reminds you that you are never alone. I want to be the place you come home to, where you can lay down every fear, every burden, and just be.”

“I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it. I don’t need anything else. Just you. Always you. And I know this is a lot, and I know I might be overwhelming you right now, but I can’t hold it in anymore. Because the truth is, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

…

Before I could fully process the magnitude of his words, the air between us shifted again. Isaac’s soft lips, trembling with emotion, inched closer until they almost caressed mine.

With a gentle, yet unwavering determination, he murmured,

“In other words…” as he closed the final gap between us.

“Can I be yours?”

For a second, I found myself at a loss for words, mesmerized by the tender warmth of his kiss and the vulnerability behind his question.

“Damn, I really thought you would never ask…”

I held his face like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

My fingers traced the sharp lines of his jaw, memorizing the warmth of his skin, the way he looked at me, like I was something certain in a world full of unknowns.

His breath fanned against my lips, steady and patient, but his eyes—God, his eyes, held that quiet, unshakable confidence.

Like he had always known this moment would come, like he had been waiting for me to catch up.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You know… I did warn you.”

I frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Warn me about what?”

His grin widened, unmistakably smug. “The first day. In the kitchen. I told you—‘be careful not to fall in love with me.’”

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”

“No, what’s unbelievable is how hard you fell.” His hands slid up my sides, holding me close, his voice dripping with amusement. “I mean, look at you. You’re obsessed with me.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Please. If anything, I was doomed the second you opened that stupid mouth of yours.”

He smirked. “Admit it, Dean. You never stood a chance.”

I exhaled slowly, my smile fading into something softer.

Deeper.

Because, as much as I wanted to argue, as much as I wanted to pretend I hadn’t been unraveling for him since the very beginning—he was right.

I hadn’t stood a chance.

My fingers curled around the back of his neck, holding him close, my voice quieter now. “Yeah… I guess I didn’t.”

He looked at me. And for all his teasing, for all his cocky behavior, there was something else in his expression now.

Something raw and real.

My chest ached.

Because this wasn’t just about how I fell for him.

It was about how he caught me.

Every single time.

Isaac was everything I never saw coming. A hurricane that tore through every wall I’d built, a fire that refused to burn out.

He was reckless and stubborn and impossible, and yet—

I loved him.

I loved him with something bigger than words, something vast and terrifying and permanent.

And God help me, I always would…

THE END

<3

Wow… we actually made it. The end of the first story:)

Thank you so, so much for reading. Whether you were here from the beginning or just stumbled upon it, I’m so grateful you gave this story a chance. I know it’s not perfect (trust me, I see the chaos too, lmao), but it was written with a lot of love.

If it made you feel something, then that means the world to me.

If you liked this one, I’d love for you to check out my second story, “Ride or Die”’. Let’s just say… if you thought this one was intense? You haven’t seen anything yet. More drama. More passion. More everything.

(trust me on this one, i’ve improved my writing skills).

And I really think it’s my best work so far.

Thanks again for being here. For caring. For feeling. See you in the next story :)))) LOVE YOU

Extra scene 🩷 Pt. 1

Dean’s POV

I’m scared.

Today I’m meeting Isaac’s family, and from everything I’ve heard, scared is literally the only word that fits.

Not because they’re bad people, I don’t mean it like that.

It’s just… they’re very… traditional. Very family.

Very “we do things a certain way and you better not embarrass us in front of the potatoes.”

And it’s not like I’m used to family. I’m terrified there are rules I don’t know. Rules I forgot existed.

Rules that only apply in Russian homes, where everyone somehow knows what to do except the random Australian boyfriend standing there like a lost IKEA employee.

Isaac keeps telling me I’m overthinking it. That they’re going to like me. That I’ll be fine.

But I don’t even speak Russian.

I didn’t know we were coming here. If I’d known, I could’ve prepared. I could’ve learned at least five sentences. I could’ve memorized something useful like “Thank you for having me” or “I respect your household” or “Please don’t murder me in front of the vodka.”

Instead, the only word I know is da.

Which means yes.

So basically I’m about to walk into a whole new country and my entire personality is going to be nodding and agreeing to things I don’t even understand.

I’m going to be smiling while accidentally consenting to a blood oath or a marriage contract or whatever the hell happens at family dinners in movies.

I exhale hard, trying to shake it off, and keep dragging my suitcase through the airport.

I look at Isaac and I swear we both look like onions.

Like… three hundred layers of clothes on each of us.

He looks like a criminal and I look like a kidnapped bear.

Perfect match.

We go through security, the whole bags-and-belts circus, and now we’re just waiting to board.

I let my head drop onto his shoulder, because if I don’t touch him right now I might actually combust.

He starts stroking my hair softly.

“Isaac,” I mumble into his jacket. “Do we have time for you to teach me a few more phrases? I’m going to embarrass myself so bad.”

He snorts. “Dean. My family doesn’t live in a cave. My cousins speak English.”

I lift my head and look at him like he’s insane. “And your grandma? What am I supposed to do, sign language?”

He laughs. “We’ll figure it out. I promise I’ll help. Relax, baby. Everyone’s excited to meet you.”

“Okay,” I say, because that’s what I’m supposed to say, but my brain is already sprinting again. “Well… your dad is definitely not excited.”

Isaac exhales.

His dad isn’t exactly thrilled about… us.

He hasn’t said anything directly. Not a big dramatic speech, not a “you’re dead to me,” nothing like that.

But every time they talk, and Isaac even tries to mention me, or our relationship, his dad either changes the subject or just ends the call.

Like he’s swatting a fly away. Like I’m not actually real.

It hurts more than I want to admit.

But I get it. Sort of.

He grew up different. In a different place, in a different mindset, with different rules.

And yeah, the fact that he’s Russian probably doesn’t make it easier. Not because Russians are monsters or whatever people like to say, but because some families are just… built on a different kind of silence.

I’m not going there to change his mind. I’m not going there to force anything. I’m not going there to push or beg or make Isaac pick sides.

I’m not going there to prove myself like I’m auditioning for the role of “acceptable boyfriend.”

It’s his choice whether he accepts us or not.

That’s his battle. Not mine.

I just… hope he doesn’t make it Isaac’s battle too.

We finally get on the plane and collapse into our seats.

Next to Isaac there’s this little boy, like… six?

And the kid is staring at him with absolutely zero shame.

And Isaac, instead of smiling politely or turning away like a normal human being, stares back.

Deadpan.

The kid turns away first.

Isaac looks at me, grinning like he’s proud of himself.

“Why do you enjoy bullying children?” I whisper.

He shrugs. “It’s not just children. I like messing with people. Remember Carter?”

My mouth drops open. “Oh my god. Why would you bring up Carter?! Ew.”

“Ew indeed,” he says, satisfied.

I roll my eyes. “Anyway. Tell me again… what do they know about me?”

He pretends to think, tapping his chin.

“They know you’re the annoying architect who’s been living in my house for the last two years and constantly drives me insane.”

I stare at him.

He laughs, leans in, and kisses the top of my head. “Dean. Stop stressing. I swear they’re not monsters. And Vera’s already told them about you.”

His voice drops softer. “You’re going to have a good week. You’ll see.”

I lean back in my seat and let out a long breath.

I’m going to trust him. I have to. Because if I keep spiraling like this I’m going to arrive in Russia already exhausted.

“Can you wake me up when the little meals come?” I ask quietly.

He nods.

And I rest my head on his shoulder again, letting myself melt into him.

After a trip that felt genuinely never-ending, we finally land in Russia.

I expected cold. I did not expect forced fucking survival.

I’m not even being dramatic, I think I’m going to die.

I can’t feel my limbs. My fingers are decorative at this point.

Vera shows up to pick us up and we end up in the car.

Her in the front, me and Isaac squeezed together in the back. I’m basically using him as a space heater, because he’s the only thing in this country that isn’t actively trying to freeze me to death.

“Okay,” I say, trying to distract myself from the fact that my soul is turning into ice. “Let’s see if I remember. We’ve got Dima. Seventeen, plays basketball. Svetlana. Eight, loves Lego. And Tanya. Twenty, hates everyone.”

Vera laughs. “Correct.”

“Great,” I mutter. “This is going to go so well.”

And then my brain immediately finds something new to panic about.

I bought gifts for everyone because I stressed out. I thought it would be a nice gesture.

A “hi, thank you for letting me exist in your space” kind of thing.

But now I’m suddenly terrified they’re going to side-eye me for it.

Like I’m trying to buy their love.

Which I’m not .

They don’t need anything, they’re rich. This isn’t charity. I just want them to see I’m happy to be there. That I’m grateful.

We pull up outside the house we’re staying at and my jaw drops.

It’s not Isaac’s place. It’s his dad’s house, and from what I understood, everyone is living there right now. All together. Grandma, cousins, the whole army, because it’s the holidays.

So basically I’m going to have a Russian person next to me at all times, and at all times I’m going to have no idea how to communicate.

I’m excited.

The house is massive. Beige stone, black iron gates, completely covered in snow. It looks like a mansion. Like a palace.

If someone told me a royal family lived here I’d just nod and believe them.

And I swear, the second Vera parks, I think about how Alex would absolutely lose his mind if he saw this.

He’s living his best life with our aunt right now.

At least that thought makes me breathe a little easier.

We reach the front door and Vera unlocks it. We step inside.

I don’t see anyone at first.

The house is so warm I actually want to cry from happiness. My bones start thawing. My soul starts thawing.

It smells incredible too, like food.

Then, out of nowhere, a little girl launches herself into the hallway with way too much enthusiasm.

Svetlana.

She’s laughing, clearly about to jump on someone and surprise them…

…until she sees me.

She freezes.

I freeze too.

She slowly walks past me like I’m a piece of suspicious furniture and goes straight to Isaac, wrapping her arms around him.

Perfect. Amazing start. I’ve already been rejected by a ten-year-old.

Huge win.

Isaac makes a dramatic gasp and scoops her up. Svetlana laughs, arms locked around his neck.

“Shoes off,” Vera whispers near me.

I nod and quickly kick mine off next to the door, copying her.

Isaac walks over with Svetlana still in his arms. I’m not used to seeing him with kids. But hell, I don’t mind it at all.

He starts talking to her in Russian, and I have no idea what he’s saying, but he points at me.

Great. I am now the topic.

Svetlana looks very serious about it. She squints at me and scans me from head to toe like a tiny security camera.

I start panicking inside. I step a little closer to Isaac and lean into him.

I whisper in his ear, tell him to say I brought her a gift.

Yeah. I’m playing my golden card because she’s a kid and kids love presents and I am desperate.

Isaac tells her in Russian. They have a whole conversation about it. They look so serious that I honestly feel like I’m in court waiting for my sentence.

Then he sets her down.

Svetlana fixes her skirt, walks toward me slowly… and wraps her arms around my legs.

I almost start crying on the spot.

I crouch down carefully and hug her back, trying not to crush her. “Hello,” I say softly.

“Hello,” she says back, and it is, no joke, the happiest I’ve ever been about anyone saying hello to me in my entire life.

She keeps studying my face like she’s trying to figure out what kind of creature I am, fingers absentmindedly playing with her blonde hair, and I just keep smiling at her like an idiot.

Isaac comes closer, his voice low by my neck. “She likes your hair, she’s curious about the scar next to your eye, and she says you remind her of a boy in her class.”

I laugh under my breath, and that’s when a voice echoes from the hallway.

It’s Isaac’s grandma and Dima.

“AYYYY, HE IS BACK!” Dima yells and throws himself at Isaac. They hug, shout, clap each other on the back.

I go straight to his grandma.

She’s holding a tray loaded with extra plates, so I grab it from her hands without thinking and set it down on the table next to us.

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Dean,” she says. “As you can see, the men of this house are too busy shouting like they’re seeing each other for the first time. They make the guest carry things. Shameful.”

I laugh, honestly shocked at her answer. I was braced for something cold, formal.

Definitely did not expect English.

And she speaks it with basically zero Russian accent.

I’m impressed.

“Please don’t worry,” I say. “I like helping. I’m really happy to finally see you in person, and thank you so much for having me.”

“The pleasure is ours, dear,” she says. “We’ve been waiting years to see you.”

She looks me up and down with a little smile. “You’re definitely taller than Isaac described.”

We both laugh.

Then I suddenly feel two hands clamp down on my shoulders.

“DUDE,” Dima says right next to my ear. “You’re the architecture genius??”

I laugh and start taking off my jacket, finally not freezing to death. “I wouldn’t call myself a genius, but yeah, I do some stuff.”

He whistles. “Dude, your accent is insane . So satisfying. Is that the word? You Australian people, I swear, I could listen to you talk all day. Can you read me a book or something? Any genre. Just talk. I’ll record it.”

I just stare at him for a second, stunned, then burst out laughing.

I cover my face with my hands because my anxiety has officially turned into nervous laughter mode and I cannot stop.

He looks at me like I’m some kind of alien that just fell through their ceiling.

And that’s when the door behind us opens.

The person who walks in is obviously Isaac’s dad.

First time I see him in real life and somehow he looks even more serious than the mental image I’d built.

And my mental image was already terrifying.

My heart starts beating fast. He’s wearing a full suit, like we’re at some business meeting and not in his house on a holiday.

Everything on him is neat.

He stops when he sees us. His eyes flick from Isaac, to me, back to Isaac.

Like he was expecting one problem and got a buy-one-get-one-free.

Okay, son coming home, sure. Fine. Makes sense.

But me?

I’m just the gay boyfriend standing in his hallway, next to his grandkids and his mother and what used to be his peaceful, heterosexual house decor.

I can literally feel sweat forming even though I was freezing to death twenty minutes ago.

For a second, nobody says anything.

He says something in Russian. His eyes are mostly on Isaac.

Isaac answers back, also in Russian. His tone is softer than usual, respectful in a way I’m not used to hearing from him.

I stand there like a decorative plant.

I don’t know where to put my hands. I don’t know if I should step closer or stay back. I don’t know if I should smile or keep my face neutral so I don’t look like I’m trying too hard.

This man doesn’t even know me and I can feel myself wanting his approval so badly it’s gross.

I swallow and force myself to move. Just a little. I straighten up, drop my hands to my sides, and try to look like a functioning adult instead of a glitching NPC.

“Hi,” I say, before I can overthink it into oblivion. My voice sounds a bit too bright, but whatever, it’s out there now. “It’s really nice to finally meet you, sir.”

His gaze lands on me properly for the first time.

He replies.

…

In Russian.

Of course he does.

I have no idea what he says. It could be “Welcome to our home” or “Get this man out of my house” and I wouldn’t know the difference.

My smile freezes on my face.

And that hits way harder than I want it to.

Because he knows I don’t understand.

This isn’t an accident. This isn’t a misunderstanding. This is a choice.

A small one. But still a choice.

If it were me? I wouldn’t do that.

I wouldn’t look someone in the face, hear them talk to me in a language I know, and answer in one they don’t.

Not the first time I meet them, at least. Not if they were important to my son.

It’s such a tiny thing, but it feels like a line drawn with a very fine pen.

I look at Isaac out of the corner of my eye. He gives me a hug, a quiet “it’s okay” kind of look, and translates for me.

“He said… ‘Welcome. You must be tired from the trip.’”

That’s… actually nice. Normal.

I feel my shoulders loosen by like two millimeters. “Thank you,” I say, turning back to him. “Yes, a little. But I’m really happy to be here.”

He gives a small nod. Not warm. Somewhere in the middle.

My brain immediately starts tearing that apart.

Is that good? Is that fake polite? Is he just being decent because everyone’s watching? Does he secretly hate me?

Vera saves me by jumping in. “Dean brought some things from Australia,” she says excitedly in English. “For everyone.”

For a moment, his father doesn’t react. Then he looks at the bag again, then at me.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, this time in English.

His accent is heavier than his mother’s, but his pronunciation is clear.

He chose to switch languages. For me.

“I know,” I say quietly. “I just wanted to. To say thank you… for having me.”

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute.

It’s probably three seconds, but my nerves stretch it out.

Then he gives this tiny, polite half-smile. “We can look at them later,” he says. “Now get ready so we can eat,” he adds calmly.

He leaves.

Dima comes closer and leans in. “Don’t take it personally,” he murmurs. “He’s like that with everyone, my uncle.”

Isaac’s hand slides across my back. “He’s right,” he says. “You’re not the issue here.”

Dima nudges Isaac with his elbow. “If your dad finds out Dean’s gonna be an architect, you’ll see how fast he softens. Dean, don’t fall for it. He’ll have you working all day. Unless you want the money. Then you’ll be rich.”

Isaac laughs. “I’d rather pay for his entire existence than have him working for my dad. Forget it.”

His grandma exhales. “Go upstairs, leave your things, do whatever you need to do, and then we eat. Isaac, give Dean whatever he needs, okay?”

“Yes, Grandma,” he says.

I follow Isaac toward the stairs. I turn back and wave at Dima and Svetlana. “Byeee.”

They wave back.

“Where’s Tanya?” I whisper to Isaac as we head up.

“Probably sleeping. We’re about to find out,” he says, dropping my suitcase and his outside the rooms.

We’ve talked with Tanya a few times over messages. From what I remember, we got along.

She’s got insane humor if you catch her in the right mood.

He walks up to her door and knocks lightly. “Tanya, I brought you alcohol!”

We keep walking a bit further down the hallway, and then her door opens.

She steps out in pajamas, hair looking like she lost a fight with a squirrel.

She walks straight towards us. Isaac lets go of my suitcase and moves in to greet her.

She pushes him aside like he’s background noise and grabs both of my hands.

“Dean,” she says. “Talk.”

“What—what do you mean, talk—”

She shrieks.

Horror-movie scream. Then she starts laughing.

I’m frozen. Isaac’s frozen. I genuinely think I black out for half a second.

She snaps back, breathing out. “Sorry. Sorry. It’s just… it’s the first time I hear another accent up close that isn’t Russian. I don’t mean it as an insult. It’s fucking amazing. Welcome!”

I start laughing and pull her into a hug. “Thank you, Tanya. I’m glad my accent made you scream with joy,” I say, and we both crack up again.

She hugs Isaac too. “Where is the alcohol?” she asks, dead serious.

Isaac snorts. “Oh yeah, my trip was great! Thanks for asking. So happy to be back.”

She pokes him in the chest. “Welcome home, princess. Don’t be late. I’m starving.”

“If we take more than twenty minutes, eat without us!”

“I like your subtlety, cousin,” she throws over her shoulder as she heads downstairs.

Isaac picks up our suitcases again and we step into our room.

He closes the door behind us.

I finally let myself breathe.

The room is huge. About the same size as our room in Australia, maybe a little bigger.

But it feels different. There’s barely anything in here that screams Isaac.

It’s like someone else designed it for him. Everything is tidy, neutral, almost too clean.

In Australia there’s Isaac everywhere. Here, it feels like… Isaac visiting Isaac’s life.

He pulls his shirt off.

I can see in his eyes he’s about to throw it straight on the floor, like always.

I stare at him.

He stares back at me.

He changes trajectory mid-motion and drops it in the laundry basket instead.

I start clapping. “I’m impressed, Isaac.”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, smiling against my mouth as he leans in.

I slide my hands gently around his neck and kiss him properly this time.

His hands go straight to my waist, tugging me closer like he’s been waiting the entire day just to have me in this exact position.

“Shower?” he murmurs against my lips.

I nod instantly. At this point I consider it a crime for either of us to go into the bathroom alone.

He peels my shirt off and lets out this dramatic little whistle on purpose.

I laugh and fold my arms over my chest. “Stop. I’m not in shape. Exams ruined my whole routine.”

He laughs. “What are you talking about? I can still see your abs.”

I squint at him. “That doesn’t cancel what I said.”

“Mhm,” he hums, not even pretending to listen, just dragging his palms slowly over my chest, my sides, my back.

We head into the bathroom and in a few minutes the whole place is a foggy sauna.

Steam everywhere.

I use my hands to rub the soap into his skin, taking my time, smoothing it over his shoulders, his back, his chest, down his arms.

There’s something stupidly calming about washing him. Domestic and unhinged at the same time.

Sometimes I wish we were animals.

I could just lick him all day and say I’m grooming him. “Sorry, just cleaning my partner, very normal behavior.”

He gives me a quick kiss. Then another. Then another.

“The most handsome man in Russia is currently in my shower.”

I raise my eyebrows. Laugh. “What about you? I thought you were the best at everything, always.”

“I’m second best in anything that has to do with you,” he says, and starts rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, massaging my scalp slow, slow, slow.

His touch drags me out of my head for a bit.

Bless him.

He gets dressed and flops down on the bed like a corpse.

I laugh. “Get up. They’re waiting for us to eat.”

“I just wanna lie flat for a bit,” he mumbles. “Two minutes.”

“Uh-huh.”

I try to be a responsible human and let him rest, but my eyes… absolutely do not cooperate.

First I look at his thighs.

Then my gaze drifts up to his stomach, where his shirt has ridden up just enough to show skin.

Then his arms, the way the muscles sit when he folds them behind his head.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

Actually, yeah. It makes perfect sense.

I’m hard. Like, properly hard. Out of nowhere.

And I’m ninety-nine percent sure this isn’t my fault. What am I supposed to do, not look at him?

I sit down in the armchair across from the bed, putting myself in timeout.

“I have a problem,” I announce.

He cracks one eye open. “What problem?”

“Boner problem.”

I rub my hands over my face. “I literally cannot go downstairs like this.”

He just looks at me for a second. Then he sits up, swings his legs off the bed, and walks straight toward the door.

I stare. Is he seriously about to leave me here, suffering, to go eat soup with his dad while I fight for my life?

“Tell them I’m in the bathroom or something,” I say quickly. “I just need a minute—”

He turns the lock.

He glances over his shoulder at me, a slow smile tugging at his mouth. “Who said I was going downstairs?”

---

I’m posting Part 2 later today :)

This next one is honestly some of the best stuff I’ve written (topic-wise). I’m proud of it, and I’m sure you’ll all notice the difference in the writing style.

It feels like Dean suddenly gained depth after 70+ chapters of being “shallow” 😭

Okay, not shallow—I shouldn’t be that harsh on myself, but I promise the difference is going to show🩷

Extra scene 🩷 Pt. 2

Dean’s POV

“Isaac, your entire family is right downstairs—”

“Exactly. Downstairs. Not here,” he says, already dropping to his knees.

He glances toward the door, then back up at me.

Another kiss, deeper this time, and his fingers are tugging at the drawstring of my sweatpants, loosening them.

“Are we actually doing this?” I whisper. “Like, right now?”

“It’s already happening,” he murmurs against my skin.

Perfect.

Ten minutes ago his dad was staring me all quiet and suspicious, and I was sitting there playing the perfect innocent guest.

Now I’m about to fuck his son’s mouth.

I’m a fantastic human being.

I haven’t even come yet and I’m already about to empty my balls into his mouth.

He pulls my pants and boxers down together.

Takes me straight into his mouth. Sucks hard, pulling all the day’s tiredness right out through my dick.

Downstairs everyone’s waiting to eat.

He’s eating something else entirely.

And I’m not complaining one bit.

I grab his head with both hands just to hold on. He goes up and down on it, making those sounds that would get us both murdered if anyone heard.

I slap my hand over my own mouth so I don’t let out a single noise, because I’m this close to turning into a moaning mess.

Footsteps outside. Dad-type footsteps.

I spread my legs wider without even thinking, and he gets it, he goes deeper, right to the back of his throat.

Starts moving faster, one hand on my thigh, the other one around my dick, squeezing just enough.

I squeeze my eyes shut, everything goes white.

He looks up for a second.

Those blue eyes, full of hunger, hit me like a truck.

I already cum in his mouth before I even realize it’s happening, and he takes it all, swallows every drop without missing a beat.

He pulls back slow, and gives me that little winner’s smile.

I’m inside this house for less than an hour and I already unloaded everything I had straight into his childhood bedroom.

First thing I do in this room is blow my load all over Isaac’s tongue.

In… the room where he probably built Lego sets and cried over broken toys.

Real poetic, Dean. Real romantic.

My brain hasn’t caught up with my body yet.

Isaac wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, calm as hell.

“Better?” he asks.

I can’t even form a full sentence. I just nod, slow.

This is… definitely not how I thought things would go.

I thought we’d shower, maybe unpack a bit, go downstairs.

But here we are.

And honestly, who am I to complain?

I just wanted a warm welcome.

He gave me a scorching one.

Isaac smirks, like he’s proud of the fact I’m sitting here with my soul halfway out of my body.

He walks past me, brushing his fingers over my shoulder on purpose.

“Come on,” he murmurs, grabbing a hoodie. “If we take any longer, Tanya’s going to eat without us.”

We clean up and head downstairs, trying to look as normal and innocent as two criminals fresh out of the scene of the crime can look.

Isaac’s cheeks are red. Like, very red.

I really hope that’s just from the hot water and not from what we just did, because if his family clock us from a blush I’m jumping out the window.

What are the chances they’ll figure it out? Realistically? Probably low.

No one’s going to assume we’re this greedy.

No sane person thinks, “Ah yes, they arrived an hour ago and already had a quick one before dinner.”

We step into the dining room and everything looks weirdly domestic.

We sit down at the table. I force my heartbeat to chill out, pick up my fork, and try very, very hard to look like a well-rested, fully innocent guest.

We’re halfway through dinner.

Svetlana keeps trying to feed me pieces of bread like I’m a zoo animal.

I decide to be a functioning member of society and start a conversation.

“So, uh,” I say, glancing at Dima. “Issac told me you play basketball?”

He lights up immediately. “Yup. Shooting guard,” he says. “We have game when holidays finish. Back in school.”

“That’s sick,” I say. “Do you have any videos? I’d love to see. We can play too, if you want.”

Tanya snorts. “Don’t show him the videos, he will find out you actually miss half your shots.”

“Shut up,” Dima says, then looks at me again. “I am good. She is just jealous. She cannot throw ball in hoop if her life depends.”

“True,” she agrees cheerfully. “But I can drink you under table, so it balances.”

Grandma is pleased with this exchange for some reason.

She keeps sneaking more food into my plate when I’m distracted.

“So, Dean,” she asks after a while, “what exactly you do in Australia? Work, study… both?”

“Both,” I say. “I’m studying architecture, and I work at a restaurant.”

“Architecture,” Isaac’s dad repeats, nodding slowly.

He looks at me. “Very competitive field. Many students, not many jobs. Hard life.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s tough,” I say, keeping my voice light. “But I love it. I don’t mind the hard part.”

He lifts one eyebrow.

“You design… what exactly? Houses?”

Every head turns a little. I swallow my mouthful of food and nod. “Houses, apartments, small public spaces so far. Student stuff, internship projects. Nothing huge yet.”

He nods slowly, like he’s doing math. “And clients,” he says. “You meet them? You speak, present, negotiate?”

I shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. I mostly… join meetings. Because I’m not done with the university yet. But I’m getting there.”

“Hm.” He stabs a piece of potato. “In our business, image matters,” he says. “Men want to trust the man who builds for them. They ask about wife, children. They see if you are…”

He searches for the word. “Stable.”

Oh.

I already know where this is going.

“Dad,” Isaac says quietly.

He ignores him.

“What do you think,” he goes on, eyes on me now, “when these men find out you are not… how to say… traditional? That you live with my son. That you are not interested in women. You think it will not change how they see you? How they trust you with their money, their home?”

The table goes silent.

Vera shifts uncomfortably. Dima looks ready to throw hands on my behalf.

I put my fork down slowly. My heart is beating faster, but my voice comes out steady.

At least one of us is behaving.

“I think,” I say, “it depends on the client, sir.”

He snorts softly. “You are very optimistic.”

“I’m realistic,” I say. “Some people won’t care. Some people will. That’s true for a lot of things. Accent, background, race, religion. People are biased. That’s not new.”

“So you agree. Being… like this,” he flicks his fingers between me and Isaac, “will make it harder.”

I hold his gaze. “I agree that some people will make it harder. Yes.”

“And yet you choose this,” he says. “You choose to put obstacle in front of yourself. For what? For… feelings?”

Isaac’s hand tightens around his fork.

“Dad—” he starts.

“It’s okay,” I say quickly, nudging his leg with mine.

Not because it is okay, but because I don’t want this to turn into World War III.

I know Isaac.

I turn back to his father.

“With respect,” I say, “my sexuality isn’t the obstacle. Other people’s prejudice is. My drawings don’t change depending on who I kiss, and my calculations don’t suddenly become wrong because I go home to your son instead of a woman. My work doesn’t downgrade because I’m gay. The only thing that changes is how certain people decide to treat me.”

He leans back slightly, folding his arms. “You say this now,” he says. “But when you are older, when you have mortgage, family to support—”

“I already have someone to support,” I cut in, calmly. “And I’m still going to design buildings the same way.”

His eyes flash. Didn’t expect me to interrupt.

“Men talk. They ask. They look at you, they see you are…”

Again, that pause.

“…not like them. You really think they will trust you same way?”

Isaac jumps in before I can answer.

“Plenty of men don’t fucking trust you either, Dad,” he says. “And you’re the straightest person alive. Not everyone hires you. Not everyone likes your face. Somehow you still sleep at night.”

“Isaac,” his dad warns.

“No, seriously,” Isaac goes on. “You act like being straight is some magic career cheat code. It’s not. You know how many assholes in your field are straight and still fail? How many idiots you’ve fired who had wives and kids and still couldn’t do basic math?”

His dad’s eyes go cold. “Watch your tone,” he says. “We are talking about life.”

“I am talking about life,” Isaac says.

He doesn’t raise his voice. That’s almost scarier.

“This isn’t about whether Dean can survive in his field,” Isaac adds. “He can. I know he can. He’s talented. He works harder than anyone I know. This is about you trying to blame his sexuality for problems that come from other people being shitty.”

“If someone doesn’t hire me because I’m gay,” I say, “that tells me something very clear. I don’t want to work for them anyway.”

He shakes his head, frustrated. “Young people,” he mutters. “Always thinking about feelings. Real life is not university. You cannot eat respect. You cannot pay bills with pride.”

Dima jumps in then, unexpectedly.

“Uncle,” he says carefully, “no offense, but lots of gay people have careers. You know? Doctors, lawyers, artists, engineers… look at Isaac. He’s successful. You think all their clients run away when they find out?”

His father gives him a look. “It is different here.”

“Is it?” Vera says gently. “The world is changing even here. Slowly, but it is.”

I don’t like how this is going.

First day and we’re already one comment away from a full-on fight.

Not exactly the “meet the family” montage I had in mind.

Whatever.

I push the thought down and focus on something else.

The food, for example. Because honestly the food is insane.

Grandma keeps smiling every time I take another bite.

Isaac glances at Svetlana, then at me. “You want me to tell her about the gift?” he murmurs.

I nod.

He turns to her and says something in Russian. I don’t catch any of it, obviously, but I don’t need to.

Her face lights up. She gasps, looks at me, then at him, then back to me.

I grin.

Okay. That helps.

A little beam of pure joy cutting through all the heavy adult bullshit at the table.

We finish eating.

Grandma swatting hands away from leftovers. I help clear the table, grabbing what I can.

At some point, Isaac disappears with Vera, they’re going to pick up his car from his place.

The dad goes off to his office or whatever bat cave he hides in between passive aggressive comments.

I sneak away to the corner where I left my bags and pull out the big LEGO box.

It’s a bouquet of flowers set. The fancy kind. Oversized and complicated.

I hold the box in both hands and just stare at it for a second.

I start walking.

Slowly, I make my way down the stairs.

I stop outside Svetlana’s door.

There’s a little paper taped to it with her name and some stickers.

One of them is half peeled, like she tried to move it a hundred times and gave up.

I knock lightly with my knuckles. Not too loud. I don’t want to scare her.

She opens the door and just stares at me.

I smile. “Hello,” I say, holding up the box and then pointing at her. “Gift. For you.”

Theoretically that should land.

Kids start English at like eight, right? She’s got to know at least a little.

She looks at the LEGO bouquet on the front, gasps, and her whole face lights up.

Okay, yeah. She got it.

I feel stupidly proud of myself.

She immediately grabs her blonde hair and starts twisting it into a quick ponytail, getting ready for serious business, then waves me inside with this tiny queen gesture.

I step into her room.

It’s… insane, honestly.

The fact she has her own room in a house that isn’t even technically hers?

Next-level privilege. Rich people side quest unlocked.

I look around. Stickers, toys, books, a bed that’s actually her own.

I can’t help thinking about me and Alex, stuffing our whole existence into one tiny room right up until I left for university.

We shared everything.

There just wasn’t space for more where we grew up.

Not that I minded. I love Alex.

But it’s wild how different childhood looks depending on where you land on the map.

I drop to the floor, cross-legged. She looks happy, really happy.

She clears her throat, all serious.

“I know… some English,” she says.

That shocks me in the best way, and I make sure my face shows it. “Wow,” I grin. “What do you know? I’m all ears.”

She giggles, cheeks pink, and launches into textbook mode.

“My name is Svetlana,” she says, proud as hell. “I am eight years old and I live in Russia.”

She says it so confidently I can’t help laughing, genuinely happy. “Wow. You’re actually good,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says, and immediately starts opening the box like, anyway, moving on, I have LEGO to inspect. “You?”

Right. My turn.

“I’m Dean,” I say. “I’m twenty-four years old and I live in Australia.”

She shuts the box lid for exactly one dramatic second, looks right at me. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you too, Svetlana,” I answer.

It’s so different, talking to a little girl instead of a boy.

With Alex we were always insulting each other, swearing, making the dumbest jokes and laughing until we nearly passed out.

Svetlana is… gentle. Sweet in this quiet way.

She’s still funny, just… different.

We start on the bouquet.

It’s actually fun. More fun than I expected, honestly.

I dig through the disaster of pieces, find the bits we need, and she does the building.

She holds up a purple petal piece. “This pretty,” she says.

I laugh. “It is pretty,” I tell her. “Pretty like you.”

She glances up at me, flustered but happy. “Thank you,” she says softly.

We keep going. The floor slowly disappears under green stems and petals.

Then the door opens.

Isaac’s dad.

My spine automatically straightens like I’ve been caught doing something illegal again.

Which is ridiculous, because all I’m doing is sitting on the floor building LEGO with his granddaughter.

He looks in for half a second, then just closes the door again and walks away.

Yeah, no.

I’m not doing this for a whole week.

I’m not tiptoeing around this house like a roach he forgot to spray.

Someone has to say something, and Isaac shouldn’t be the only one taking the hits.

I have no problem being that “someone.”

I look at Svetlana.

“Wait here, okay?” I say gently.

She nods immediately, hands still resting on the LEGO box.

I get up.

I step out of her room, close the door quietly behind me, and walk down the hallway.

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

I stand there in the doorway for a second, just watching him.

Then I clear my throat.

“Sir? Can I ask you something?”

He looks up, surprised. “Yes?”

“Could we… talk? Just us?” I ask. “If you have time.”

His eyes settle on me properly.

Then he nods once. “Five minutes,” he says. “Sit.”

He gestures at the small table in the corner of the kitchen.

I sit.

He sits across from me. No phone, no distractions.

Just me and that stare.

My palms are sweating. My leg wants to bounce under the table but I force it to stay still.

“Okay,” he says. “You wanted to talk.”

“Yeah,” I say, and exhale. “I did.”

I look at my hands for a second, then back at him.

Might as well be honest. I didn’t drag him in here for small talk about the weather.

“I know you know who I am,” I start. “Like… you know I’m not just Isaac’s friend.”

“Obviously,” he says.

“Right.” I lick my lips. “I also know you’re… not thrilled about that.”

He doesn’t jump to deny it.

“I don’t know you,” he says. “Not enough to be thrilled. Not enough to be… anything. You are a stranger who appeared in my son’s life.”

“Yeah. Fair,” I say quietly. “But I’ve… picked up some things. From the phone calls. The subject changes. The silence when Isaac mentions me.”

His jaw tightens the smallest bit.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, very clipped. “If that is what you are thinking. Hate is a very big word. I don’t wish you harm. I just… do not understand this.”

His hand flicks slightly, like he’s gesturing at an invisible shape between us. “Him. You. Together.”

“I know,” I say. “I figured.”

So I breathe, slow, and say it.

“I’m not here to argue with you,” I tell him. “I’m here to explain where I stand. And… where we stand. Me and Isaac.”

He leans back a bit in his chair. “Speak, then,” he says.

“I’m not going to pretend this is easy for you,” I say. “You grew up here. In a different time, different rules, different expectations. In your head Isaac was probably supposed to come back with a wife. Kids. Very simple and familiar story.”

His eyes flicker, like I hit another nerve.

“And instead he brought home… me,” I add, a little dry. “Tall Australian boyfriend, tattoos, absolutely no intention of marrying a woman. Not exactly the traditional script.”

His mouth twitches.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “You are… not the script.”

“I get that it’s a shock,” I say. “I’m not asking you to suddenly love it. I’m not asking you to pretend it’s been your dream since he was a baby. I just need you to know a few things. From my mouth. Not as rumors through the family phone chain.”

“Go on,” he says.

“First thing,” I say. “Isaac wasn’t ‘turned gay’ by me.”

His expression shuts down a bit, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I know how that story goes in a lot of heads,” I continue. “Your son goes abroad, meets some foreign guy, changes. Suddenly he’s different. Suddenly he says ‘I’m with a man.’ It’s very easy to make me the villain in that version. The reason everything is different now.”

He looks at me, unreadable. I look back, steady.

“But that’s not the order of events,” I say. “He didn’t meet me and then become who he is. He is with me because of who he already was. You know what I mean?”

Silence. His fingers tap once on the table.

“I am aware my son had… tendencies before he met you,” he says eventually.

“Sexuality isn’t a tendency,” I say gently. “It’s not a hobby. It’s not a phase like listening to emo music for two years and getting over it. It’s who he’s wired to love.”

He inhales slowly through his nose.

“In my world,” he says, “this wiring you speak of brings difficulty. Not joy.”

“I know,” I say. “Trust me, I know. Being gay isn’t a free ticket to an easy life. If anything, it’s literally the opposite. That’s why it makes me so mad when people act like it’s a choice. Like we woke up one day and thought ‘You know what would be fun? Picking the path that makes everything harder, riskier, uglier in some people’s eyes.’”

I push on.

“I live with your son,” I say. “If I were a woman, nothing about that would bother you.”

His eyes snap back to mine. He doesn’t argue.

That’s answer enough.

“If I were your son’s girlfriend,” I go on quietly, “everyone would call me sweet. They would say how nice it is that he has someone. They would say ‘Dean takes care of him. Dean makes him happy.’ Your friends would ask if you like me. You would say, ‘She’s good for him.’ You would be… proud.”

The word hangs there.

“But I’m not a woman,” I say simply. “I’m a man. So suddenly none of that counts the same way. Same person. Same behavior. Same love. Different body. And now it’s a problem.”

“You think I have problem with you because of your body?” he asks. “No. I have problem because the world is not kind to people like you. To people like him. You are asking me to smile while he walks into fire.”

“That’s the thing,” I say. “He’s already in the fire. He’s been standing in it his whole life, whether anyone acknowledged it or not.”

I lean forward a bit, elbows on my knees.

“He never told me I had to say this, by the way. This is all me. But I see him. Every time he tries to slip my name into the conversation and you change the subject. Every time you ignore ‘we’ and only respond to ‘I’.”

I look up at him again.

“That’s not protection,” I say softly. “That’s just a different kind of fire.”

He looks genuinely unsettled, like no one has ever put it in those words for him.

“I am his father,” he says. “It is my job to worry. To question. To make sure he is not making mistake.”

“With respect,” I say, “he is twenty-six. Also, loving me is not a mistake he’s going to grow out of. If you cut me out of his life to ‘protect’ him, the only thing you’ll do is break his heart. He will still be who he is. He just won’t have me. Or eventually… he won’t have you.”

“I’m not here to threaten you,” I add quickly. “I’m not saying ‘accept us or lose your son.’ That’s not my sentence to give. I just need you to see the direction this goes if everyone stays as they are right now.”

He stares at the table for a long moment.

“You speak like this is already decided,” he says quietly. “Like there is nothing to discuss. No possibility he… changes his mind.”

I hold his gaze.

“I’m not foolish enough to promise you nothing in his life ever changes,” I say. “People change careers, cities, opinions, tastes. That’s normal. I’m not expecting you to do a full 180 tonight,” I say after a second.

“I’m not expecting you to suddenly start calling me your son-in-law or whatever. Obviously. I know it’s a lot. I know I am a lot. New country, new language, new boyfriend. It’s… messy.”

He almost laughs at that.

“What I am asking,” I say, “is that you stop treating me like the problem. I’m not here to take him away from you. I’m here because I love him. That’s it. That’s literally the whole plot.”

I shrug, helpless in the most honest way.

“I make sure he eats. He makes sure I don’t skip sleep for three nights in a row. We push each other to do better at work, to be better people. I get on his nerves, he gets on mine. That’s what you wanted for him, right? Someone good. Someone steady. Someone who doesn’t leave.”

He looks at me for a long time. “You speak like you are already his husband,” he says.

“I speak like I plan to be around,” I say. “If he still wants me. I’m not here as a tourist in his life. I love him. A lot. More than I can explain in a kitchen in five minutes.”

“And you think,” he says slowly, “that your sexuality… has no impact on who you are as a man?”

“I think it has impact on who I love,” I say. “On who I’m attracted to. But as a man? I still pay my bills. I still go to work. I still treat people with respect or… at least I try. Being gay doesn’t suddenly remove my brain, my morals, my ability to love, or my sense of responsibility.”

I lean in a little, because this part matters.

“If I were straight,” I say, “you would have zero complaints about me. You know that, sir. You see how I treat your family. You see how I treat your son. So ask yourself—what exactly are you afraid of? Me or the word?”

He doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t have to.

We both know.

“You ask big things from old man,” he says, half to himself.

“I’m not asking you to march in parades,” I say, a small smile tugging at my mouth. “I’m asking you not to pretend I don’t exist when your son says my name. That’s all. Start there. Use ‘we’ instead of forcing him to say ‘I’ when he tells you about his life.”

“And if one day,” I continue, “you ever want to know me as something more than ‘the gay Australian boyfriend,’ I’ll be here. I like chess. I like architecture. I over-salt food if nobody stops me. I make mistakes. I talk too much when I’m nervous. I’m a whole person. Not just a walking label.”

“You speak well,” he says eventually. “Too well for someone your age.”

“Trauma and therapy,” I say automatically, then wince.

He gets to his feet with this small, tired huff.

“Great,” he says, almost laughing. “Now I have to think instead of work.”

I huff a laugh too, soft.

At least he’s… joking? That’s new.

“I didn’t say any of that in a bad way,” I tell him, hands half–raised. “I swear. I’m not attacking you. I’m saying it because I care. If I didn’t care about your opinion, I wouldn’t bother trying at all.”

I shrug a little. “But I do care. And I want us to… you know. Get along. Or at least not feel like we’re on opposite teams all the time.”

He looks at me for a second, then nods once.

“What can I say,” he mutters. “You were… clear. I give you that.” His mouth twitches, like he hates admitting it. “Just… let me…” he gestures vaguely near his head, “…digest. That is all.”

I nod immediately. “Of course,” I say. “Take your time.”

He studies me one last moment, then turns to go.

As he walks away, I let out a breath.

Okay. He’s thinking. Because of something I said.

I’ll take it.

---

I feel like I just went to therapy after this chapter 💀

It honestly felt like I was the one talking to my own family, trying to convince them that gay people aren’t aliens.

That’s why it pisses me off when I hear people say women shouldn’t write gay stories just because they’re not gay.

You don’t need to be gay to understand basic things, the same way you don’t need to be a murderer to write a story about murderers.

Some of you need to wake up, seriously.

Anyway. Should I write more extra scenes for you guys? :)