The music in the lounge was a soft, steady thrum, a pulse that seemed to beat from the very walls of Elysium. It was a place for quiet conversations, for those who wanted to fade into the background rather than stand in the spotlight. That's where I found Leo, alone in a shadowed corner. His posture was slumped, a sharp contrast to the confident, polished man I knew he was outside these walls. His jacket was draped over his knee, a shield he wasn't wearing, and his eyes were fixed on a glass of whiskey he hadn't touched.
I eased into the seat across from him, letting the soft leather creak under my weight. He didn't look up at first. It was a studied ignorance, a silent plea to be left alone. I knew it wasn't a lack of awareness; it was just a man caught in his own thoughts, and he hadn't decided yet whether to let me in.
"You look like someone who wants to be anywhere but here," I said, my voice a soft murmur that wouldn't intrude on the quiet.
He let out a short, hollow laugh, a sound devoid of any real humor. "Here's the thing, Cassie," he began, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. "This is the only place I feel like I can breathe. And at the same time, it's the place that could destroy me."
I stayed quiet, letting the weight of his words settle in the space between us. I knew better than to rush him. This wasn't a confession he was ready to make to just anyone.
"I live in two worlds," he continued, his voice so low I had to lean in to catch the words. "By day, I'm the perfect son. The reliable finance executive. Polished. Respectable. Safe. At night…" His fingers, long and elegant, tapped a slow, steady rhythm on the table. It was a sound of nervous energy, of a man on the verge of breaking. "At night, I kneel. I give up control. I let myself… be seen. And if the wrong person ever connected those two versions of me, if they ever saw me here, a single photo, a single rumor… my family would cut me off, my career would be over. Everything I've worked for—gone."
The image of a shadow flitted through my mind, the one I had seen outside the Blue Oasis door just weeks before. The memory was a cold shard of ice. This wasn't just paranoia. This was a real and terrifying possibility. The walls of Elysium, which once seemed so impenetrable, were starting to feel thinner, more porous.
"I'm tired, Cassie," he admitted, the words a raw, unfiltered plea. "Tired of lying to everyone. Tired of pretending one part of me doesn't exist, that I'm not whole when I'm here. Tired of the fear that hangs over me every time I walk through that door."
I reached across the table, my hand covering his. His skin was cool, and his fingers stiffened for a moment before relaxing beneath my touch. "You're not pretending here, Leo," I said, my voice as steady as I could make it. "This is where you're the most real. And I'm not going to pretend I don't understand. I walked in with my own secrets, too. Secrets I'm afraid to have seen."
His eyes, a deep, liquid brown, searched mine, sharp and assessing. He was looking for the truth in my words, for a glimmer of understanding. He needed to know if I was just another person who saw him as an interesting story, or if I saw him as a human being. "And can I trust you with mine?" he asked, the question hanging in the air between us.
The weight of it was heavier than he knew. My article, my original purpose for being here, felt like a betrayal in that moment. But looking at him, a man so terrified of being seen that he hid in plain sight, I knew my answer was the only one I could give. "Yes," I said firmly, squeezing his hand. "Your truth is safe with me. Always."
Something in his shoulders loosened, the tension he had been carrying for so long finally giving way. For a brief, fleeting moment, the mask he wore outside these walls slipped completely, and I saw the man underneath—not the submissive, not the polished finance executive, but just Leo. A man exhausted by the burden of his own life.
"Thank you," he murmured, the words almost foreign on his tongue, as if he wasn't used to saying them.
I squeezed his hand once more before letting go. "We protect each other here," I told him, the words a promise, a vow to the sanctity of this place. But as I said it, I couldn't shake the chilling thought: what happens when this place can't protect us anymore? What happens when the world outside finally gets in?