Jimmy's POV
He's always like that—ignoring me the moment I try to speak about something serious. And now, once again, he's walked out, leaving me sitting here alone. I bend down and pick up the torn piece of card from the floor, my fingers tightening around it. Was I too harsh with him? Maybe. But all I wanted was to protect him. He calls it control, yet he doesn't see how much I care.
Dane… why are you always like this?
I remember the first time I saw him—just a boy of twenty, standing in the club as a host while I worked there as a waiter. The billionaires looked at him with eyes burning with hunger, and he let them. He even enjoyed it. He's always liked playing with fire. And me? I thought I was straight, until he walked into my life.
I tried everything to ignore him. To keep my distance. But Dane never let me. He clung to me, pushed into my world, and somehow he succeeded. His smile… it was like no one could ever hurt him. That smile made me want him even more.
When we finally started living together, I thought maybe—just maybe—I could have him. But he kept treating life like it was nothing but a game. Every night he came home smelling of sex, with pockets full of money and scars across his body. And every time, it broke me a little more. I couldn't take it. So I gave up, forced myself to find a girlfriend, tried to bury him somewhere inside me. But even then… he never left my mind. He never left my heart.
He doesn't understand. He never even tries to. To him, I'm just the boring doctor who nags him about dignity and safety. To me, he's everything. And it hurts—God, it hurts—to watch him throw himself into the arms of men who don't care, men who only want his body for one night.
He says he's an orphan like me. Maybe that's true. But when I look into his eyes, I see something deeper—wounds he never speaks about, secrets he keeps buried. And I want to know them. I want to know him. But he never lets me in.
And still… I can't stop wanting him.
Dane's POV
I walk slowly along the sidewalk, the night air cold—but not as cold as what's inside me. The streetlights flicker, dim and distant. My steps feel heavy. Maybe I should head to the club, drink until I forget Jimmy's words. Shame. Dignity. They echo inside my head, sharp, cruel.
I laugh bitterly. My parents… they used to say the same things. Shame, disgrace, because I liked boys. Is it really such a sin to want love? Maybe Jimmy feels the same, maybe he's ashamed of me too. Maybe I never should have entered his life, never should have moved into his place. It's my fault—I ruin everything I touch.
The park is empty. I wander in and sink down onto a cold bench. For a moment, it feels peaceful. Quiet. I've always been unwanted—by family, by lovers, by the world itself. I take a deep breath and let the freezing air wash over me, numbing the frustration and sadness twisting inside.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Jimmy. I stare at the screen but press silent. Better this way. I've always chosen silence. Silently leaving my family when they didn't want me. Silently accepting when the man I loved cut me out of his life. And now, silently walking away from Jimmy. Silence is safer. Peaceful.
The air cuts deeper into my skin. I close my eyes, letting it swallow me whole—until I hear footsteps. A voice breaks the night.
"Finally, I found you."
My eyes snap open. Kyle.
I stand immediately, irritation rushing through me. I try to walk away, but he catches my wrist.
"What do you want, Mister?" My tone sharp, almost a growl.
He pulls something from his pocket. "It's yours."
My pendant. My fingers tighten as I snatch it from his hand. "Thanks," I mutter flatly, trying to walk again, but his grip doesn't loosen.
"Leave me," I snap.
He only smiles softly. "Why are you always so angry? Can't we sit and talk for a while?"
I narrow my eyes. "What, you want to sex with me?"
His eyes widen, then suddenly he bursts out laughing. "You're so straightforward. But no, I'm not that kind of man."
"Then what do you want?" I ask, annoyed.
He leans in, close enough that I can see the glint in his eyes. "Your face… it looks just like my ex-lover's."
I freeze. Ex-lover? Bastard. My fist itches to punch him. But then a thought crosses my mind—maybe playing with him would be better than fighting.
A smirk curls across my lips. "Interesting. I want to hear about this ex."
We sit back down on the bench, the night swallowing us both.
The night is silent, but not my mind. My thoughts twist until I almost whisper to myself—Damien… no, I'm Dane. Damien died years ago.
He suddenly says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you my name. I'm Kyle Auralis."
I just stare at him. He really doesn't recognize me. Maybe I've changed too much—and maybe that's a good thing.
"What happened?" he asks, tilting his head.
"Nothing," I reply flatly. "So, Mister Kyle, why did you want to talk to me?"
Again, that soft smile curves his lips. "You look like my ex. But your temper and behavior are completely opposite from his."
"Really?" I smirk faintly. "So, how was your ex?"
Kyle lifts his gaze toward the night sky. "Like this night—silent, and like the moon, alone but beautiful. We were classmates in school. He always sat by the window, no friends, no words, always so quiet. I used to secretly glance at him. He was so beautiful… soft. I liked girls, but when I saw him, something about him pulled me in.
"I noticed he always looked at me, and then I realized… he liked me too. One day, in the storeroom, I finally got the chance. I kissed him. His lips were so soft, so sweet. His innocent face… from then on, we started dating—but in secret."
Kyle's voice falters. His words fade, swallowed by silence. I study him, then ask coldly, "And then what happened?"
His eyes glisten. Shock runs through me when I see the tears gathering there.
"After graduation," he whispers, "my parents sent me abroad. Before I left, I promised him I'd come back and marry him. But it was a lie. He believed me, and I… I cut everything off. Changed my number, deleted my contacts, erased him. I was just… playing with him."
My fists clench. Rage surges through me, the urge to hit him, maybe even worse. But I swallow it down, forcing my voice steady. "What's his name?"
A broken smile touches his lips. "Damien. His name was Damien."
A bitter laugh escapes me. "You're crying after abandoning him? Wow. What a great love story."
Kyle lowers his head, ashamed, his tears dripping onto his lap. "I thought I could live without him. But soon I realized I couldn't. So I came back. But it was too late."
"Too late?" My voice sharpens.
He nods, shoulders trembling. "When I returned… I heard he died. An accident. Five years ago."
I laughed, sharp and bitter. "Good. It's good he died. Death is better than seeing again the face of someone who abandoned and cheated you. Yes, it's better Damien is dead."
A smile twists across my lips, but inside I feel strange—unnatural—listening to someone speak of my own death.
Kyle stares at me, stunned. His voice trembles. "You're so heartless."
"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "I am. But you—" I lean closer, eyes locked on him—"you're worse than me. You hurt someone, played with his feelings, made promises and abandoned him. And now you dare to call me heartless?"
The laugh bursts out of me again, uncontrollable. I laugh and laugh, not at him—but at myself, at this twisted fate. I'm laughing while hearing the story of my own death.