—VAREK'S POV—
I sat on the cold floor beside the bed, back resting against the frame, staring at a crooked crack in the wall. Hours passed, or maybe minutes — I couldn't tell. My mind was empty, yet unbearably loud. Everything inside me felt... gone. I didn't even look up when the door creaked open.
I didn't expect him to come. Not him. Not after that.
But it was him. Nolan.
He stood in the doorway like a ghost who had made the wrong turn. Awkward, quiet — unsure.
I didn't have the energy to speak. I didn't want to ask questions. But something inside me cracked, and I forced out just one line.
"Why are you here?"
He started talking.
Explaining.
Saying things like he didn't mean to lash out, that he was confused, overwhelmed, that he just wanted answers. That I scared him. That he didn't know why he came back.
But none of that mattered to me. I didn't want reasons or logic. I didn't want the full story. I just wanted one thing — to hear that it hurt him too.
That it shocked him.
That he didn't mean it.
That he was sorry.
And then…
He finally said it.
"I'm sorry, Varek."
Soft. Almost unsure.
But it was there — and in that single breath, all the chaos in my head went quiet.
It echoed inside me like something sacred. And suddenly, I didn't care about anything else. I didn't care about the bruises on my chest, or the blood on my lip, or the fact that he would probably hate himself for being here.
All I wanted was to hold him.
To bury my face in his neck. To breathe him in. To feel if he was still warm. Still real. Still mine.
I reached out and pulled him into my arms, gently, as if he might vanish if I held too tightly. He didn't resist.
God — he didn't resist.
I whispered, "Let me be like this… just for a few minutes."
And he said nothing.
He stayed.
And that silence — his silence — it was everything I had been starving for.
We stayed like that, motionless, for what felt like both forever and no time at all. His weight against me. His heartbeat. His quiet breaths. I memorized it all.
Eventually, he said, "I should go."
I wanted to say no. I wanted to hold on.
But I knew… if I tried to keep him now, I might lose him forever.
So I let him go.
I sat in the silence after he left, and for the first time in a long, long time…
I didn't feel entirely hopeless.
Maybe… just maybe…
This was progress.
---
— NOLAN'S POV—
The second I stepped out of his room, I could feel my heart pounding like it had lost its rhythm.
Too fast. Too loud. Too much.
It was like it wanted to rip itself out of my chest and run straight back to him.
And that terrified me.
What if he noticed?
What if he felt it when I was in his arms?
God, what kind of person lets themselves be held by someone they don't trust?
I don't understand myself. I really don't.
This is wrong. I should've left the second I saw him sitting there — empty, bleeding, quiet. But something in me broke when I heard my own voice say it.
"I'm sorry, Varek."
And when he pulled me in, I didn't move.
Not because I trusted him.
But because... I think I wanted to.
I can't afford to slip further than this. I won't.
Not when I still don't know what his real intentions are.
Not when I still remember the notes, the flowers, the way he looked at me at the club.
But…
When I lay down on my bed, everything felt the same. The same ceiling. The same air. The same ticking clock.
Except the weight in my chest — that terrible, suffocating pressure.
It's gone.
I don't want to admit it.
But…
I feel better.
And that's the most dangerous thing of all.