The glass shattered against the wall, just inches from Elias's face.
Whiskey spilled in the air, catching the light for a moment before splashing onto the floor.
Elias didn't even blink.
He stood across the room, breathing hard, his fists tight at his sides. The photo still shook in his hand — the one with red letters scrawled across it: Next, I take him.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Elias yelled, his voice cracking. "You promised you'd keep me safe! And now someone's sending me threats — about Noah, about you — and you're just sitting there drinking like it's nothing?. Really, huh ??"
Damien's bloodshot eyes locked onto him, dark and fierce.
"Do you think I don't care?" he growled as he took a step closer. "Do you think this doesn't tear me apart, seeing you in fear and the fact I might loose you in any minute?"
"I think you're lying!" Elias spat back. "Lying about Noah. About what happened to him. About us. About what I even am."
In two steps, Damien was in front of him.
The sound of broken glass still echoed as Damien grabbed Elias's shoulders. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me!" Elias screamed. "Tell me who I am! What he meant to me! Why would someone send me that photo? And why did they scratch his face out?!"
"Because the past isn't gone!" Damien shouted back.
Then suddenly, his hand was around Elias's throat, pushing him hard against the wall. Slightly choking him but not too much.
Elias gasped, his hands grabbing at Damien's wrist. His feet barely touched the floor.
"Damien—"
"You want the truth?" Damien's voice was low and harsh. His breath smelled of whiskey but his eyes were wild. "Fine. You're not his brother. You never were. Noah was your father. There you have it."
Elias froze.
The room felt like it was closing in.
"You're lying."
"No." Damien's grip loosened just a little — not enough to free Elias but enough to feel different. "Noah was only fifteen. He didn't tell anyone who your mother was. He begged his parents to raise you like you were his little brother."
"That can't be—"
"But it is." Damien's voice broke for the first time. "He was scared. Scared to death. And when we got close… even more scared. He worried what would happen to you if the truth came out."
Tears burned behind Elias's eyes.
"I don't believe you," he whispered. But deep down, he knew the truth was sinking in like a sharp blade.
Damien's hand finally dropped.
Elias slid down the wall, struggling to catch his breath. He pushed Damien away. "You kept this from me? You let me believe he was just my brother?"
"He was your brother. Your whole world. And he was mine."
There it was again — that obsession.
The way Damien said it, like a promise. Like Noah wasn't just someone he loved, but someone he owned.
Elias took a step back.
"You're sick."
Damien's eyes flared with something fierce.
"I protected you. Every second, every step. Do you think this world is safe? That the truth is kind? You're here because I fought for you. Because I buried the boy I loved and kept your name out of every file I could."
Elias's voice cracked. "Then why do I feel like I'm drowning every time I see you?. Everytime, I see you I become afraid and reminded of the guilt of letting Noah down"
Damien stopped. His breath was heavy.
"Because I see him when I look at you."
Silence.
Damien stepped closer, slow and shaking.
"I see him," he whispered. "But you're not him. You're you. And I'd burn the whole world just to keep you alive."
Elias's lips parted. His eyes were a storm of emotions.
Damien's grip on his throat eased just a little — but the hurt was already there. His voice shook between anger and something almost desperate.
"I lost him, Elias," he said quietly. "I won't lose you too."
Elias's breath hitched. His heart pounded so loud he couldn't think. "You don't love me," he whispered. "You're just trying to replace him."
Something in Damien's eyes broke.
That was when Elias shoved him hard and ran.
He didn't stop to grab shoes or jacket — he just ran.
"Elias!" Damien shouted after him. "Come back!"
But Elias didn't look back.
He ran down the hall, past the elevator, threw open the stairwell door, and raced down the steps like his life depended on it.
Sobbing.
Barefoot.
Faster than he ever had before.
The cold night air hit him like a shock. He didn't stop.
He burst out onto the street.
Car headlights flashed nearby, but he didn't care.
He kept running. Anywhere but there.
At the edge of a dark alley—
Tires screeched.
A van door slammed open.
Two figures jumped from the shadows.
"What—?! No! Get off me!" Elias screamed, twisting wildly. But then a cloth was pressed against his mouth — wet and burning.
The world blurred.
The last thing he saw was a gloved hand covering his face and a voice whispering:
"You look just like your brother."
Then darkness swallowed him whole.
—
Back in Damien's apartment, the broken whiskey glass lay forgotten on the floor.
Damien paced, heart pounding. Rage and regret mixed in his chest.
He opened the door to chase after Elias — but the stairwell was empty.
No Elias.
Just silence.
And one thing left behind on the pavement under the streetlight:
Elias's sketchbook.
Open to a page.
A half-finished drawing—