The champagne glass trembled in his hand. Nausea rolled through him, sudden and violent, rising from somewhere deep. His vision tunneled, edges going dark, everything contracting to that one spot across the room.
Zach.
He was standing with Landen, laughing easily, one hand gesturing as he talked. Confident. Relaxed. Beautiful in the careless way he had always been. His hair was the same, hissmile was the same, the arrogant way he occupied space was exactly as Adriel remembered.
For a fraction of a second, Zach's gaze drifted across the room. Caught on Adriel.
Recognition flickered in his eyes. Adriel saw it, the moment Zach registered who he was looking at, the brief pause as the memory surfaced.
Then his mouth curved.The same dismissive smirk he'd worn the last time Adriel saw him, the one that had saidyou don't matter, you never did, and everyone here knows it.The one that had lived in Adriel's memory for years, playing on repeat in the dark hours.
Zach's gaze held for just a moment longer; just long enough to make sure Adriel saw it. Then he turned back to Landen as if Adriel wasn't there.
Adriel stood frozen at the bar, champagne shaking in his hand, and watched them. Watched Zach touch Landen's arm as he made a point. Watched Landen laugh at something he said.
They matched.
That was the thought that lodged in his chest and wouldn't move. They matched. Tall and sharp and confident and handsome. Two men who belonged in this room, in each other's company, in a way Adriel had never belonged anywhere. Two men who looked like they'd known each other for years, who had the easy familiarity of old friends.
Men like that always knew each other.
The thought formed before he could stop it, rising up from the place where Zach's voice still lived. The place that whisperedIwould never be with someone like you.The place that had been carved out years ago and had never quite healed over.
If they knew each other, then…
His mind filled in the gaps faster than he could stop it. All the pieces clicking into place with horrible, perfect logic. Landen and Zach, old friends, meeting for drinks. Comparing notes. Laughing over the desperate one, the fat one, the needy one who thought he mattered. The one who believed every pretty word, every careful touch, every whisperedgood boy. Who let himself be tied up and taken apart and put back together and thought it meant something.
This was a game.
It was always a game.
He could see it now, so clearly it made him sick. The setup. The seduction. The careful, patient work of making someone believe they were wanted, just so you could laugh about it later with someone who would appreciate the joke.
The champagne glass shook violently in his hand. Liquid sloshed toward the rim. He set it down on the bar before it could spill.
And then he ran
∞∞∞
Landen
Landen noticed Adriel's absence the way you noticed a change in temperature; not all at once, but with a creeping unease that sharpened into alarm.
He had spotted him immediately, when Adriel had arrived.
He couldn't help it. Adriel had, somehow, become a shiny beacon, pulling Landen's attention any time he stepped into a room. It was involuntary by now, automatic, his gaze searching for that particular head of hair, that particular warmth that existed only in the space Adriel occupied.
He'd seen him come in. Seen him hesitate at the entrance, take in the room, make his way toward the bar. Had watched him order champagne, scan the crowd.
Landen had smiled to himself. Small. Private. Had forced himself to look away, to focus on the conversation he was in, to maintain the distance they'd agreed on.
Then, somewhere between one glance and the next, Adriel had vanished.
Landen didn't notice at first. He was deep in conversation with the author they were celebrating and his partner. But somewhere beneath the words, beneath the smiles and the nodding, something was tugging at him.
He glanced toward the bar.
Adriel wasn't there.
