Triangle — Episode 1
The sun was blazing directly overhead, turning everything around into a furnace, and surely no one felt the heat more than the construction workers. "Come on, move faster!" Brian shouted to the crew. The project for Mr. Davidson had to be finished by the end of summer, but the work was tough. Last month, delays in paying wages had cost them many workers. Foreman Brian had to be on site, working alongside them when necessary. His days as the boss were behind him — at least for now.
After several exhausting hours, it was nearing 5 p.m. Brian had left the site and retreated to his trailer to plan the next day's schedule. Tomorrow would be even busier; in just three days, they had to complete 1,700 square meters of foundation — and there were only six of them, including Brian. He opened his phonebook, calling everyone he could to come work. Since he'd been doing this job every summer since he was 15, his network was wide — and he was the foreman, after all. The workers had to obey him.
Time ran out calling people. Brian hadn't found anyone reliable yet, but like always, he muttered, "Screw it," and headed home. He lived alone, carrying on with the job as a foreman despite being only 22 — a young man with a bright future.
His phone rang, pulling him from a deep sleep. He grabbed it. It was Michelle. "Ugh, what now?" he thought, but answered.
"Michelle: Brian, get up! Hurry, hurry!"
"Brian: What's up, man? It's late."
"Michelle: We have to go out for dinner — it's urgent!"
Brian dressed sharply, sprayed on his cologne, and ran his fingers through his hair, making sure it looked just right before jumping into the car. "Always gotta look sharp," he thought. Maybe tonight he'd meet the love of his life.
The two talked for hours, but then something caught Brian's attention — the man at the next table had two phones in his pocket. It wasn't an unusual sight, but involuntarily Brian thought, "Why do people carry two phones? Isn't one enough for these fucking show-offs?"
Michelle's story didn't interest him much — she was telling him about her toxic relationship with a guy named Theo. It wasn't unusual that she talked nonstop. Theo had cheated on her, but she had cheated too, and she thought they would get back together. Brian just listened all night because Michelle wouldn't stop talking — like a 8-9-month-old baby who only makes sounds and never stops. But who cared? She wasn't just his closest friend, she was like a sister, and their friendship had lasted since high school, probably never to end.
Life continued the same for Brian, but for Michelle, it was exciting. The restart of the toxic relationship thrilled her. Though 21, she loved being jealous and having her "hands and feet tied." She loved being loved and owned. She was a complete teenager.
Robert said, "What kind of heat is this, damn it! Turn it down, God, turn down the sun's temperature!" and the next day at the construction site started. The six-man team worked nonstop without even smoke breaks — they could only light their cigarettes and wait for them to burn. Brian didn't want to be harsh, but the work had to get done.
"Why do we suffer because these damn formworkers delayed the work? We're working our asses off!" Vincent was right — they were working overtime, and the rich bastards were watching them. Others started complaining to Brian too. Brian put away his crowbar and lit a cigarette.
"Alright, sit down, let's rest for five minutes." The workers vented while the foreman listened, but there was no solution. Who wants to tie iron in 35-degree heat? But there was no choice — the job had to be done.
Michelle arrived at the Eight Company restaurant. The place was damn fancy, and she felt like a queen.
"Hi, I have a reservation under Michelle Flores," she said to the receptionist.
"Of course, welcome. May I have your name, please?" the receptionist replied politely.
Michelle repeated her name and walked inside.
She found Theo Bernthal waiting at their table. The night was going well, but whenever Michelle looked at him, all she saw was obsession. She didn't really feel anything — but she loved the twisted comfort their toxic relationship gave her. Sure, they both loved each other in their fucked-up way, but it wasn't love.
But what was love? Love was respect, passion, honesty — none of which existed between them.
Meanwhile, Brian Easton pulled up to the restaurant separately.
His name wasn't on the reservation list. "My friend called to get me in — Michelle Flores," he told the receptionist.
The place was crowded. People laughed, flirted, and some struggled to keep their marriages alive. Brian scanned the room and saw Theo sitting alone at the table.
Brian took a deep breath and walked steadily toward Theo's table. As he approached, the crunch of shattered glass and spilled wine echoed beneath his shoes.
Theo looked up, eyes locking with Brian's, an indifferent smirk on his face.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, sipping from his glass like nothing was wrong.
Brian didn't sit. He stood there, firm, gaze unwavering.
"Cut the bullshit," he muttered.
"Where's Michelle?"
Theo shrugged casually.
"Bathroom. Freaked out or something."
"She's always been dramatic, you know that."
Brian's jaw tightened, his fists clenched.
"You made her cry again, didn't you?"
Theo chuckled coldly.
"Come on, man. Don't act like you care. You're not her hero. You're just the next guy in line."
That was it. Brian leaned in closer across the table, voice low but razor-sharp:
"You don't get to fuck with her like that anymore. Not while I'm around."
Theo leaned back, smirking.
"Or what? You gonna punch me in front of all these people?"
Brian narrowed his eyes.
"Don't tempt me."
Silence blanketed the table. People nearby weren't talking—but they were listening. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
Michelle sat on the cold bathroom floor, her breath shaky, trying to steady herself. The sounds from the restaurant—the laughter, the music—felt miles away.
Brian's voice echoed in her mind: "You don't get to fuck with her like that anymore."
She clenched her fists, wiping tears away roughly. She hated feeling so vulnerable, but the pain was real.
Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open.
Brian stepped inside quietly, his eyes softening when he saw her like this. And said" what the fuck happened ?"
Michelle, tearful, spat out, "Son of a bitch." Their argument escalated, tempers flared, and the table was wrecked.
Brian thought to himself, "Fuck all of you—the relationship you're having, the toxicity, your friendship—it's all bullshit." To him, it was utterly absurd. How could anyone hurt someone they supposedly loved?
"This ends right here between you two," Brian said firmly.
"Don't call, don't answer if he calls you. Otherwise, I'll beat him first, then you."
Michelle knew Brian said these things because he cared about her, so although she wasn't afraid, she was upset about the situation she had fallen into. After all, Brian was a man—and even if he was her closest friend, she didn't want to be embarrassed in front of him.
Close friendships between a man and a woman rarely stay just as friends. Michelle was aware of this, but she hadn't made any move toward Brian because she didn't want to lose their friendship. She knew any kiss or emotional moment between them would unintentionally shatter all their friendship ties. As Brian was talking, Michelle started to study him intently, as if the trauma from her recent heartbreak hadn't affected her at all. She looked at Brian with interest—her lips slightly pursed, eyes locked on his sharp jawline, biting her lips. At that moment, she wanted Brian more than ever before; she desired him.
Brian helped Michelle up, and they set off. He dropped her off at her place, then headed home himself, muttering under his breath:
"How can someone enjoy this? How can they do such a thing? Being obsessed with each other doesn't mean they're happy."
"Goddamn idiots," he said to himself. Then his phone rang.
It was Michelle calling.
"Are you okay?" Brian answered the phone, panicked.
Having just gone through a new trauma and still not fully over the love of her life in her mind, he wasn't sure if leaving Michelle alone at home was a good idea. Without hesitation, he turned around and rushed back to Michelle's place, running up the stairs. When he entered, Michelle was naked.
Brian couldn't help but look, even though he tried to resist—after all, she wasn't blood-related. Michelle was slender, 172 cm tall, with elegant short black bobbed hair, brown eyes, slightly full breasts, long legs, and shapely thighs. In every sense, she was stunning.
Brian had noticed all this before, but he hadn't dwelled on it, especially since she was his "little sister" in quotes—the closest friend.
After Michelle got dressed, Brian turned around and was surprised: she wore a dress and said they were going to a party.
It was a party at the University of Southern California, where Michelle studied. No matter how much Brian argued, there was no way out—he had to go. He couldn't just leave his "little sister" alone. As they drove, Brian's mind was full of thoughts. He loved using his inner voice and thought of himself as special because not everyone had an inner voice or could vividly picture objects in their mind in color and life like he could—he belonged to that rare 1%. So, he used his inner voice a lot and visualized the events unfolding before his eyes.
Michelle, broken by drunkenness, surrendered to the ease of the music, her eyes closed, arms out the window, feeling the wind on her face. It was a perfect high, like being high on weed—without the nausea or bloating from alcohol—just her head spinning, like a haze.
When they arrived at the party, Brian realized he actually liked these scenes. Why wouldn't he? There were plenty of hot drunk girls, dancing, and a few hours to forget the stress of work. Even though he didn't suffer much work stress, sometimes it got to him.
As the hours passed, the two mingled with other people. During a conversation with a guy named Moses, Brian looked up to check on Michelle and scanned the room carefully.
He saw drunk couples making out in corners, some crying—their biggest worry in life was whether charismatic Jason from the upper class would notice them, he thought.
When Brian looked around to check on Michelle, he caught her kissing another girl by the poolside. He was surprised but relieved—after all, there wasn't a man involved, and Michelle could defend herself against a woman.
And that was exactly the moment Brian had been waiting for: there were plenty of beautiful university girls around, even if he didn't want to admit it.
One was a curvy redhead who looked a little trashy—just the kind of girl he could sleep with right away. But sleeping with women had never been a problem for Brian. He was a handsome man, after all, and he was looking for someone to push boundaries with. Then, a blonde, blue-eyed girl smoking alone caught his attention. She looked so noble and self-sufficient, as if she needed no one, observing her surroundings and probably analyzing them. She seemed like a tough girl—just Brian's type.
After chatting with various drunk people for a while, Brian ended up bumping into the blonde. She didn't seem very interested, but Brian stood out from everyone else there anyway. His sunburned, lightly muscular body from hard work made him different from those college girls.
Taking a sip from his slightly chilled whiskey, Brian walked toward her. Their eyes met and didn't break contact. Brian tightened his jaw, pretending to look left, and showed off the earring in his ear and the zircon piercing in his tragus. He didn't want the girl to see him as a pushover—Brian knew he looked different in that environment. He did this to prove he was elite.
"Hey, what's up?" Brian started the conversation.
"Good, and you?" the blonde replied.
"I know we've been hooking up for a while, but if there's no serious meaning, I'd like to really meet you."
The girl looked into Brian's eyes and said, "So what if there is? Are you going to give up that easily?"
Brian answered, "It's not usually my way, but I don't want to bother the other person."
The girl said, "You can't get what's beautiful without trying."
"Brian Easton, by the way."
"Natasha Dyer," she introduced herself.
The conversation flowed smoothly, laughter breaking out. The sexual tension between them grew steadily.
"Shall we go?" Brian asked.
"Let's get out of here." His libido was through the roof, probably because of the grinding while dancing.
He took the girl in his arms and drove her home, his hand lightly resting on her waist and her ass. He held a cigarette in his mouth as he left school.
He was in a good mood. It had been two months since the last time he had sex.
Suddenly, he heard someone shout and turned around.
"Son of a bitch!! You fucked up my life—what the hell are you doing here? Fuck your character!"
"Michelle, calm down, let's talk. Don't just yell."
"Fuck off, enough already!" she shouted, trying to say more but lacked the strength and collapsed onto her knees, hands raised to face level, crying.
Damn, man, fuck your relationship—you didn't just ruin your own life but also fucked up my night, Brian thought as he took a final drag from his cigarette and flicked it away between his index and middle fingers.
There was no choice anymore—he had to confront Theo. He had to keep him away from his "little sister" so she could feel safe, because if things continued this way, they would eventually get back together—he knew it.
"Hey, you," Brian called out.
Before he could say "Let's talk outside," he took a punch to the mouth. But it wasn't Theo. Theo wasn't a fighter or a tough guy, and there was no way Theo would punch Brian.