Kairo's apartment was dim except for the glow of the streetlights slicing through blinds.
He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, phone in hand.
Ayan's name stared back at him from the screen.
Untouched.
Unanswered.
Kairo's thumb hovered like it had its own pulse.
One word. One call.
He could drag Ayan back into his gravity anytime he wanted.
But no.
Not yet.
His jaw flexed as he tossed the phone onto the mattress. It bounced once, landing face down like a secret.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
You should figure that out before I do.
He'd meant it when he said it.
And now… now it was becoming something sharper. Something he could feel in his teeth when he thought about Ayan's voice breaking in that classroom, about the way his body burned in the dark.
His fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles white.
Control.
He needed control.
But the air felt wrong without him in it.
Every silence felt too empty.
Every breath without Ayan's scent in it tasted stale.
Kairo dragged a hand through his hair and laughed low—dark, humorless.
> "You're driving me insane, ice prince."
He stood, pacing once, twice.
Stopped at the window, watching the city hum like a beast below.
If Ayan thought he could keep hiding behind walls forever…
He was wrong.
Because Kairo had all the time in the world.
And storms didn't knock twice.
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