The party roared behind him, music spilling into the night like a pulse he no longer felt.
Auren walked down the endless corridor, heels echoing off polished marble. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to get away.
His fingers found a bottle of wine left on a silver tray by the staff. He didn't care about the crowd
He climbed the stairs to the rooftop, each step heavier than the last, and finally collapsed onto a lounge chair beneath the stars. The wind tousled his hair gently, the sky heavy with velvet silence. He took a sip. Then another. And another.
Until the bottle was empty, and something inside him felt cracked open.
His chest ached. His throat burned. And before he knew it, the tears began to fall.
"Why did you marry me if you hate me this much?" he whispered to no one.
The wind didn't answer.
His fingers clutched the empty bottle as the past rushed in— a warm laugh, a college hallway, two boys under golden lights, laughing over bad coffee and crumpled papers.
---
Flashback
"You always fall asleep in the library."
Damir grinned, nudging Auren with a book. They were both sprawled out on the floor of the old reading room, sun flooding through tall stained-glass windows.
"That's because you never shut up," Auren said, laughing.
"You're too easy to tease."
"And you're too smug."
Damir reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Auren's ear. "You like it."
Auren didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either.
That was always them. Not quite lovers. Not quite strangers. But something dangerously in-between.
---
Present
Auren drank until the world blurred. The last thing he remembered was the stars turning upside down.
When he opened his eyes again, it was morning. He was back in his room. The silk sheets smelled like laundry and something faintly unfamiliar. His clothes were different now: a long white shirt and shorts.
He sat up groggily, holding his aching head.
"What the hell..."
He shuffled into the kitchen. Breakfast was set neatly on the table—hot tea, toast, and sliced fruit. His phone buzzed.
Mom: "Why did you drink so much at your own party, Auren?"
Still hazy, he asked, "Who… who brought me home?"
Her answer came quick and cold.
Mom: "Damir Voss. Who else would it be?"
His grip on the phone tightened, heart skipping a beat. "I'll call you later," he said quietly, ending the call before she could say more.
The rooftop was quiet.
Wind brushed Auren's hair as he sat against the railing, a bottle in his hand, now empty—like everything inside him. The city lights blinked far below, too far to reach, too far to care.
He tried to laugh. Failed.
And then, quietly, he whispered to no one, "Why are you doing this to me…?"
His eyes were glassy. He drank more.
Memories started to blur—then sharpen.
Damir's arms wrapped around him. He opened his eyes weakly.
"Damir?" he slurred, gasping for air as he clutched the man's shirt. "Why… Why are you doing this to me…?"
Damir didn't answer. He just lifted him gently, bridal-style, and carried him down the stairs. Auren pressed his face against his shoulder.
"You don't like me anymore, right? I know... You never did."
Damir stayed silent, jaw tense.
"I was happy, you know," Auren whispered, the words tangled with tears. "I was really happy when we got married."
They reached the car.
Damir placed him in the seat. Auren gripped his hand tightly.
"Don't leave."
Back at the mansion, Damir carried him to the bedroom. But when he tried to set him down, Auren wouldn't let go. He pulled Damir down with him onto the bed, eyes glassy with tears.
"You want this, right?" he whispered.
His fingers shakily unbuttoned his own shirt, letting it slip off his shoulders, revealing the fragile beauty of his bare chest under the moonlight.
Damir froze. "Auren, stop."
But Auren wasn't listening.
He leaned up, pulled Damir into a kiss—gentle, trembling, broken.
Damir tried to stop him, but Auren clung to him like he was the only thing keeping him from disappearing.
"You know I love you so much…" Auren whispered, lips brushing his jaw.
Then, without warning, he fell asleep—just like that, his face buried in Damir's chest, his breath soft.
Damir sat there, stunned. His hands hovered in the air, unsure if they were allowed to touch.
"I didn't even start anything," he whispered to the sleeping boy.
He laid him down gently, brushed the hair from his forehead, and tucked him in without saying another word.
Auren stood frozen, the call still ringing in his ears.
Damir Voss carried you home.
He set his phone down on the counter with a soft clink and stared at the untouched breakfast. The tray looked too perfect. Like it had been placed there… lovingly.
His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
"I don't remember," he whispered to himself.
His throat felt dry, as if his heart had burned its way up. "What did we do… last night?"
He tried to think. To reach for it.
But the only things that surfaced were fragments:
The rooftop.The alcohol.The weight of loneliness.
Damir's arms… warm, tight around him.A car door slamming.A heartbeat too close to his own.His tears soaking into someone's chest.
Then… nothing.
Just static.
He pulled his knees up to the chair, hugging himself in the oversized white shirt. His skin still smelled faintly of someone else's cologne. His lips tingled.
"I don't remember…" he said again, softer now.
And for some reason —That made it even scarier.
To be continued.....