Andrew stirred to the faint sound of birds chirping outside an unfamiliar window. He blinked at the soft ceiling light above and slowly sat up, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"Where… am I?" he muttered aloud.
Then it hit him—last night's impulsive decision. He'd kissed someone. Willingly. Boldly. He rubbed at his temples.
Right. I said I was going to lose my virginity…
He glanced around the unfamiliar room. "This must still be Charles' place," he sighed, staring blankly out the window. Judging by the sun's position, it was probably late morning.
Suddenly, a sharp pain jolted through his chest. He gritted his teeth, clutching his ribs as a grimace twisted his face.
That again… just like during the kiss.
"Great," he muttered. "Exactly what I needed."
Before he could dwell on it, the door creaked open and Charles stepped in, still wearing that easy, boyish grin.
"Oh! You're awake, Andrew! How are you feeling?" he asked, making his way to the bed. Concern flickered behind his playful tone.
Andrew nodded stiffly. "I'm fine. Just… a little pain in my chest," he said, watching the way the light hit Charles' cheekbones.
God, he's really attractive…
Charles' brows furrowed. "What happened back there? One minute we were… you know, and the next, you grabbed your chest and collapsed! I tried to carry you to the hospital, but you wouldn't let go of me—even unconscious. I swear, I thought the first guy I ever brought home just died in my apartment."
He gave a half-laugh, trying to lighten the mood as he reached out to brush the back of his hand against Andrew's forehead.
Andrew blinked. "Wait… first guy?"
Charles smirked. "Yeah. Didn't think you were my first, did you?"
Andrew let out a breath. "You're my first too," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Sorry for all the chaos. That wasn't exactly my intention."
"Hey, don't worry about it." Charles shrugged. "But I heard that," he added, putting his hands on his hips dramatically. "Sharp hearing, remember? Did you really just say I'm your first? Like, first everything?"
Andrew hesitated, his gaze dropping to the sheets. "First time hitting on someone… following a stranger home… kissing someone. All of it."
He braced himself for the ridicule, mentally preparing for that awkward pause or sarcastic laugh.
But Charles didn't flinch. His eyes softened instead. "Wow. That's kind of… sweet, actually. Was there a reason you waited so long?"
Andrew exhaled slowly, his voice quiet. "I always believed in the golden thread of fate. I thought I'd meet someone special. Someone meant for me. I waited… and waited. But then…"
His voice trailed off. The silence that followed hung heavy with unspoken grief.
Charles nodded, his tone gentle. "I get it. But you know… only about twenty percent of people ever meet their fated partners. The rest of us just find people we love—and that's good enough. So what changed last night? Why hit on me?"
Andrew smiled faintly. "I guess I stopped believing. Or maybe I just needed something real." He didn't say he felt empty. He didn't need to. The way he clutched his arm, barely meeting Charles' eyes, said enough.
Charles sat up straighter, still watching him. "Well, I'm glad you did. I had a good time."
He stood and stretched. "Now—what would you like to eat? Chef Charles is on duty."
Andrew chuckled as he tried to stand, but his legs buckled slightly.
"Whoa there," Charles said quickly. "Eat something first, Romeo. You look half-dead. I make a good rice omelette, and you will be impressed."
Andrew let out a sigh and smiled. "Alright. I'll eat whatever you make."
"Perfect. Prepare to be amazed."
Charles disappeared into the small kitchen, and a few minutes later reappeared in an apron adorned with two teddy bears forming a heart.
Andrew blinked. "Cute."
The aroma of eggs, butter, and spices drifted through the room, making his stomach growl. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until that scent hit him.
"Food's ready!" Charles called cheerfully, placing the plate on a small wooden table near the bed.
Andrew slid out of bed and sat down, cautiously taking a bite. His eyes widened at the taste.
"This is… really good," he said, digging in faster.
"Told you!" Charles beamed.
They ate in silence, but it wasn't awkward. The room hummed with an odd energy—not tension, not comfort, but something... expectant.
When they finished, Andrew stood and grabbed his bag. "Thanks for the food. And for… you know. Everything. I'll see you around?"
"You better. I'm not done showing off yet," Charles replied. "Give me your number."
Andrew rattled it off, fingers brushing Charles' as he passed the phone.
"I'll be by the café," Charles said. "Prepare something sweet."
"You got it."
And with that, Andrew stepped out the door, the click behind him echoing in his ears.
—
Later That Day
Back at his apartment, Andrew showered and changed before heading to his café. But while driving, the chest pain returned—sharp, insistent, like hot needles twisting beneath his skin.
He hissed, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"Boss… are you okay?" Timmy asked the moment Andrew stepped behind the counter, his face etched with worry.
"I'll be fine. Just need some rest," Andrew muttered, hand still pressed to his ribs.
"You should really see a doctor. That's not normal."
"I'll go after we close—"
"No. Go now. We've got it covered," Timmy interrupted, already shoving his bag into his hands.
---
Willow Gardens General Hospital
Andrew sat across from the doctor, who stared intently at the test results in his hand.
"You say you've had this pain since yesterday?" the doctor asked, adjusting his glasses. "Strangely, nothing seems physically wrong with you. Was there any trauma? Anything unusual lately?"
Andrew sighed, slouching in the chair. "No trauma. I did have an accident last week, but I was cleared. And I met someone… my fated one."
"Ah," the doctor said, leaning forward, interested. "That's a big deal. What happened?"
Andrew hesitated. "I'm gay. And I expected my fated partner to be a guy. But it turned out to be a girl. It messed with me more than I thought."
The doctor hummed in understanding. "Sometimes the body reacts to emotional stress as if it were physical trauma. You may be experiencing psychosomatic symptoms—it's not uncommon," the doctor said. "The golden thread connects us to our fated ones, regardless of what we want or not."
He scribbled a few notes. "Take the prescribed meds. And if it continues, come back."
"Thanks," Andrew said quietly, standing to leave.
---
He drove in silence. No radio, no humming—just the steady ache behind his ribs.
By the time he got home, he was exhausted—physically and emotionally. He ate in silence and stood under the shower far longer than necessary, hoping the water would rinse off the chaos in his head.
Slipping into bed, he sighed, "What a long day…"
His eyes shut, heavy with fatigue.
---
Endless fog stretched across the horizon.
And in the middle of it… a girl. Motionless. Her back to him.
She wore a long, flowing black gown. Her dark hair swayed in a breeze he couldn't feel. The world around her was silent—too silent.
Andrew tried to walk forward, but the more he moved, the farther she seemed.
He called out, but no sound came from his lips.
The girl didn't turn. Not fully. But her head tilted, as if she had heard him.
Then—just before he woke—he swore he saw something.
The faint glimmer of a golden thread… winding through the fog.