It was a quiet Saturday morning. The kind that smelled faintly of brewed coffee and freshly laundered clothes from the dorm next door. Sunlight streamed lazily through the blinds of Eliot's dorm room, painting slanted lines across his desk cluttered with papers, pens, and a half-empty mug.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through random articles he had bookmarked but never really read. A yawn escaped his lips when his phone buzzed. He was still sleepy but... the name of the sender seemed to wake him up.
One new message.
Kaius.
Eliot's brows lifted slightly, the corner of his lips twitching before he could stop it.
Kaius: "Partner, wake up. You probably haven't eaten yet. Don't tell me your breakfast is coffee and notes again? I know being lazy is a sin, but... don't be too diligent either. Hey, that's bad for your health."
Eliot snorted. Well, where's the lie in there? he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he typed back. But before he could even hit send, another message popped up.
Kaius: "Here, for inspiration."
A meme followed, some ridiculously edited photo of a cat sitting on a laptop with the caption: When you said you'll only type one paragraph but ended up writing a whole thesis.
Eliot chuckled, despite himself. He pressed his lips together quickly, as if denying the sound, he just made.
For the past few days, this had become routine. Witty remarks, silly memes, random motivational quotes. At first, he found it irritating, even childish. What does this guy think, that we're close now? But somewhere along the way, the irritation melted into something else. And it looks like that... he's getting used to it.
He wouldn't lie. It made him... happy.
Happy in a way he didn't want to admit out loud.
Another buzz.
Kaius: "So, question. Can I pick you up today? Just in case you get lost and go to the wrong meeting place."
Eliot rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered stubbornly. There he goes again. As if I don't have feet. He started typing, already framing his reply with a sarcastic bite softened by the small grin tugging at his lips.
But before he could finish, a new notification slid across the screen.
One new message.
Not Kaius this time.
Marcus.
The smile on Eliot's face disappeared in an instant. His stomach sank, as though the sunlight in the room dimmed with that single word. Marcus.
His father.
The name was saved in his phone not as Dad or Papa or anything warm. Just Marcus, his second name. Distant. Formal. A label he typed one night when he was too tired to pretend closeness.
Eliot stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard. His chest tightened.
Buzz.
Marcus: "HOME, ASAP"
The weight of the message pressed heavy on his shoulders. Home? Is that even a word? Or is it more accurate to say that word really exists in their household?The last time he checked, no.It always was. And it always drained him.
The lightness from moments ago, the little laughter, the faint joy Kaius' memes had pulled out of him... it vanished like smoke.
He exhaled shakily, setting the phone down for a second. His eyes fell on the mug of coffee on his desk. Lukewarm. Forgotten. And just like that mug of coffee, he is too... forgotten. Only remembered when needed. When useful.
With a long sigh, he picked the phone back up, deleting the half-written reply for Kaius, leaving him on seen. His fingers hovered for a moment before typing a single word in their chat.
Eliot: "Otw."
No smiley. No sarcasm. No warmth.
Just Otw.
He tossed the phone gently onto the bed and rubbed his temples. God knows how much he wanted to say I'm busy. But he knows, that, if he did that... his father's men would come to fetch him, they might even drag him if he resists.
Why did it always have to be this way?Why was it that the second Marcus entered the picture, the small sparks of light he'd managed to gather would fizzle out?
He thought back to the cat meme Kaius had sent minutes earlier. His lips almost curved again, but the shadow of his father's message loomed too large.
Standing up, Eliot moved to his desk and started gathering his notes and pens into a folder. The motions were automatic, like a robot being controlled and moved using a remote. He didn't want to think too much. If he thought too much, he'd get stuck.
Still, he couldn't ignore it completely. His mind replayed the string of messages Kaius had been sending these past days... the silly ones, the funny ones, the unexpectedly thoughtful ones. Somehow, those messages had carved out small spaces of comfort in his otherwise cluttered, heavy week.
And now... one message from Marcus, and it all collapsed.
"Otw," he repeated under his breath, as if grounding himself. He slung his bag over his shoulder and glanced at the mirror by the door. His reflection stared back at him: hair slightly messy, eyes tired despite the morning sun.
Get it together, Eliot, he told himself. Just show up, let him finish whatever he wanted to say.. and leave.
Right, after all... Eliot doesn't owe him his presence. Who is he again? Ah, Eliot's sorry of an ass father.
But deep down, he knew today would feel different.
Outside, the day was clear. The sky stretched wide in a soft blue, unmarred by rainclouds, and the air smelled faintly of earth warmed by the sun. Students living in the same dormitory passed him by, laughing, talking, carrying books and snacks. Life went on around him, normal and carefree.
Eliot shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked down the pavement, phone buzzing lightly again in his bag. He knew who it was without checking.
Kaius. Probably with another silly joke.
For a second, Eliot considered ignoring it. But then, almost unconsciously, his lips curved in the faintest smile. Even if he wouldn't admit it out loud, those messages from Kaius, it made him feel a little better. And maybe, just maybe, they were the only thing keeping him from drowning in the shadow of Marcus' text.
Ah, I would rather listen to Kaius' mischievousness.
In his mind, he kept on complaining. But... he couldn't do anything about it. He just sighed.
The moment Eliot stepped inside the mansion; he immediately felt the heaviness of the air. The cold marble floor gleamed under his shoes, polished to perfection, yet it felt lifeless. The chandeliers hanging above sparkled, the high ceilings gave off grandeur, and the massive staircase spiraled upward like something out of a painting.
But no matter how beautiful, how expensive, how perfectly designed this house, it would never be a home.
Never was. Never will be.
Eliot tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. He didn't feel any joy at all. None. If anything, he'd prefer to be in his small dorm room, even if it's messy, even if it smells of coffee and paper. At least there, he could breathe. Here, he felt like he was trapped by walls made of wealth, but soulless.
"Eliot."
The voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. His father stood at the bottom of the staircase, arms crossed, his suit impeccable as always. The man didn't even need to raise his tone; the weight of his gaze alone could crush someone.
Marcus Reyes. His father.
And the moment their eyes met, nothing was left but the cold hostility between them. He didn't even feel any excitement at seeing him again after long months of not thinking of coming home to this house.
"Finally," Marcus said, his lips curling into a sneer. "You remembered you actually have a family."
Eliot didn't answer. He just stood there, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying not to show how his chest tightened. God knows how much he wanted to laugh at the mention of the word family. Eliot didn't know that that word exists in his father's vocabulary.
"You're completely worthless," Marcus continued, stepping closer, each stride heavy with anger. "You're always absent. Always busy with whatever useless thing you're doing in your school. Literature? Writing? What will that get us?"
Here it comes, Eliot thought bitterly. Same script, different day.
Marcus' voice grew harsher. "Do you know what people are saying? That I have a good-for-nothing son. A son I have nothing to be proud of. A son I can't even show to my associates because I'd only be ashamed." Anger was evident in his tone. "How can I even bring you along? You don't know anything about business."
Each word landed like a slap. But Eliot clenched his fists, keeping his expression neutral. He doesn't want to give his father the satisfaction of annoying the sh*t out of him.
"Don't you even think about your family?" Marcus barked. "You only think about yourself, your delusions!"
Eliot's jaw tightened. Delusions, he calls writing.My dream is a delusion. Even now, it's still a delusion to him.
Then, as if all of this wasn't enough, Marcus' next words made Eliot's blood boil.
"To at least be useful to our family," Marcus spat, his eyes narrowing, "just marry my business partner's daughter. They're as rich as us. They match us. And most of all, they can help us step higher, more money, means more power."
For a moment, Eliot froze.
Marry? Without even asking if I want to. Hah!! He's really a sorry of an ass father.
He laughed bitterly."Are you serious right now?" He couldn't hide his annoyance anymore, or maybe it's more accurate to say his anger... you could see it in his voice and the strained look on his face.
"Of course I am," Marcus shot back. "What's wrong with that? It's a perfect match. At least you'll be useful. Not bringing me shame all the time."
Eliot shook his head slowly, his laugh hollow. "You knew for a fact that I'm gay, right?" he said sarcastically, his tone laced with venom. Not once did he hide his sexuality, he admitted and accepted every pain. Because he knows within himself... who he is, what he is... and what is meant for him. He is sure.
The words had barely left his lips when a fist connected with his cheek.
The world tilted, his vision blurred, and a sharp pain exploded on the side of his face. Eliot staggered backward, hand flying to his cheek.
For a moment, silence filled the air, until Marcus' voice tore through again.
"Don't you dare talk back to me like that, you ungrateful bastard!"
Eliot's breathing grew heavy. His cheek throbbed, but more than the pain, it was the fury boiling inside him that kept him standing.
"Enough," he whispered, voice trembling at first, but growing steadier as he glared at his father. "Enough."
Marcus scoffed. "What, you can't take the truth? The truth that you'll never be good enough? That you will never be a son I can be proud of? Straighten up, or I might lose control and kill you, even if you are my son."
Eliot's vision blurred again, not from the punch, but from the sting of tears he refused to let fall. He straightened his back, meeting Marcus' eyes head-on.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he raised his middle finger.
"You can keep your money," Eliot spat, his voice low but firm. "I can afford to live without it. You can have it all to yourself. After all, you're nothing but a sorry of an ass father. Dude, grow up. Always criticizing my gayness, character development, no?"
For the first time in a long while, Marcus looked stunned.
But Eliot didn't wait for his father's response. He turned onto his back, his footsteps echoing against the cold marble floor as he stormed toward the door. You couldn't see any guilt on his face. All you can see is the satisfaction. If he had known it would be this satisfying, he would have done it a long time ago. But never mind, his present self will make up for it.
He is no longer the way he was before; he can no longer be easily broken.
Each step away felt like breaking a chain.
Behind him, Marcus' voice thundered. "You'll regret this, Eliot! You'll achieve nothing without me!"
Eliot didn't look back.
Not once. Because he knew to himself... what Marcus said is nothing but a freakin' b*llsh*t. He will dictate whether he achieves anything or not. His diligence, his perseverance, and his character that can get along with other people and does not step on or use others, just to rise up.
And for the first time, even though his heart was broken, even though his hands were still trembling, even though the punch that landed on his cheek hurt, he felt free.
Because finally, he chose himself.