I had always known that the one I loved would never love me back-not in the way I wanted him to.
Jackson Averic was my best friend since childhood.
Our families were close, influential, and intertwined, so naturally, we grew up side by side.
I had liked him for as long as I could remember. He, never did. But his younger brother? That was a different story. Nyren Averic was a year younger than me. I first met him when I was fourteen and he was thirteen.
From the very beginning, there was something in the way he looked at me-quiet, unwavering, and almost painfully intense. He had that spark of pure, silent devotion, a love he never spoke aloud.
Maybe because he couldn't-he was mute, born that way. Now, at twenty-five, nothing had changed.
My feelings for Jackson remained the same, unreturned, and Nyren's feelings for me had never wavered either.
I remember the first time I truly noticed him. He was a tiny boy with wide, innocent eyes, always clutching a small notepad and pen.
At first, I didn't understand why-until I learned he needed it to speak to the world. True to my usual self-calm, maybe a little rude-I had said, "Why can't you just learn sign language? I'm too lazy to read your words, and so is everyone else."
I shot an eye-roll at the adults around us who never seemed to bother learning it for their own child.
How ridiculous!
Nyren just stared at me, his eyes wide, probably thinking I was the rudest, most arrogant person alive. I didn't care. Instead, I handed him my iPad, already signed him up for an online sign language class.
"Keep it. Until you learn properly, use it to write your words," I said, crossing my arms. He held the iPad bigger than his small hands could manage, ears flushing as he stared at me.
Then he typed, slowly, deliberately, with a smile that could have melted anyone's heart: "I like you, Big Brother. Will you marry me?"
It was a simple sentence, a little messy, but clear enough for a boy his age.
The adults laughed, thinking it a child's innocent game, but I frowned. "No way. You're too ugly for me," I said, turning away, not meeting his gaze. And yet, he looked at me like I had given him the sun itself. That wide, radiant smile.
I still wonder what exactly he was thinking that day. "Lucien, you there?" Jackson's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, just lost in thought." I shrugged, glancing sideways at Nyren, who sat beside me, pouring me another glass of wine as I had just finished one.
The three of us were at an expensive bar, talking about Jackson's wedding-his wedding. You can probably guess what that was doing to me. Jackson acted completely normal, as if he didn't know the turmoil inside me, while Nyren looked like he might break into tears at any second, fanning me lightly with his palm.
"Stop being so damn dumb," I glared at him. The place was already cold-why was he fanning me? Nyren lowered his head, nodding silently, then sipped his wine, still stealing glances my way.
"You seem to like her a lot," I said casually, taking a sip of my drink. Jackson smiled awkwardly. "Yes, she's, well my type."
"Yeah." I shrugged. "Anyway, just say what you actually wanted to say, Jack. Don't waste time." My tone turned serious, and the air thickened with tension.
Nyren gulped.
Jackson sighed.
"Lucien, I've said it before, I'm sorry. I really thought about it, but I can't see you any other way than a best friend." His head lowered, his voice carrying a hint of sadness.
"Hmm, not even when I do this?" I placed my glass down, grabbed his collar, and pressed my lips against his.
Jackson's eyes widened-not in shock, but in disappointment and disbelief. He pushed me away, just enough to make the distance clear. "Lucien, you should stop. I've said it already-I can't. My marriage is fixed, so we can't keep doing this. I like you, of course you know how much you mean to me, but only as a best friend. And please." He bit his lip, voice softening.
"Stop doing that already."
"Fine. You're a waste for rejecting me," I shrugged, forcing a cool expression, even though my chest ached.
The air felt heavy, tense, almost suffocating. Jackson wouldn't meet my eyes anymore, lost in his own world, while Nyren, as always, sat quietly, silently suffering. I knew the sudden kiss I had given Jackson hadn't fazed him much-but Nyren? His soul had been shredded, piece by piece. Not that I cared.
A few minutes later, Jackson's phone rang-it was his mother, calling about wedding plans. After bidding us goodbye, he left, leaving just me and Nyren in the quiet of the bar. I twirled my glass, drinking slowly, staring at nothing in particular.
"Don't you dare cry or you know what'll happen," I muttered. "It's freaking annoying." Nyren gave a small nod, keeping his face lowered as usual. I sighed heavily.
"If only it were him, if only it were him who was this in love with me instead of you," I muttered, finally lifting my gaze. Nyren's face was red, his eyes shimmering with pain-a mixture of suffering and heartbreak the likes of which only I could cause him.
His handsome, flawless face never got a moment's rest, and I was the reason.
"Don't make that face," I said, voice almost frustrated.
"You're making me feel like it's my fault that you like me and I can't accept you." He didn't move.
Slowly, his long, elegant fingers rose, forming words in sign language. "I'm sorry." His lips trembled slightly.
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Get up. Let's go to your place. I'm in a terrible mood. Fix it." I drained the rest of my glass in one gulp and stood.
Nyren nodded, got up silently, paid the bill, grabbed my forgotten jacket from the table, and ran after me without a word.
The apartment was dark, quiet, and drenched in the soft glow of the city lights through the window. I didn't waste a second. Clothes flew off me in frustration, tumbling to the floor. I was burning, impatient. Nyren moved quickly, picking up the discarded clothes and placing them neatly on the couch. Then he signed, his hands trembling slightly: "You'll get cold."
"I don't care," I muttered, stretching my arms above my head, completely bare, letting my skin drink in the cool night air.
Nyren swallowed hard, unable to stop his eyes from roaming over me, lingering a moment too long on every curve. He finally tore his gaze away just enough to grab his jacket and drape it over my shoulders, signing again: "You'll really get cold, do you want something to eat? I can cook anything you want."
"No need. Just, come already," I said, yanking him close by the collar. I smashed my lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss, one full of frustration, longing, and unspoken suffering from both of us. I tried to push Jackson out of my mind-tried to forget him-but in the heat of the kiss, it was impossible.
Nyren pressed me against him, his hands on my waist, pulling me flush to his body. His jacket slipped around me, hiding me beneath its fabric, against his warmth from the cold. He groaned softly, a sound of restraint and need, and I could feel every battle he was fighting against his own growing desire.
The city lights glittered outside, but all I could see, all I could feel, was him-Nyren-his silent devotion, his whispered pain, and the slow, simmering fire that had always been between us.
The next day dawned bright and clear, blue skies and fresh air streaming through the windows-but I felt utterly lazy.
"So tiring, and so lazy," I muttered, rubbing my eyes, too comfortable to move.
Nyren, as always, was silent and attentive.
After cleaning up from last night, he was now helping me into a soft cotton sweater and pants.
Even after such a long, exhausting, and, pleasurable night, he moved with his usual care.
I rounded my lips at him, signing slowly: "I'm hungry."
He nodded, his gentle smile softening my chest. "You can sleep a while longer. Breakfast will be ready by then."
I nodded, sinking back into the warmth of the bed, watching as Nyren adjusted the AC to the perfect temperature, tidied up, put our clothes in the machine, handed me a steaming cup of coffee, and then walked quietly to cook.
I stared at the ceiling, a heavy thought weighing on me. Only if I could give Nyren what he wanted, only if I could love him back the way he loved me.
But I couldn't.
My heart wasn't something I could control. I liked Jackson. I couldn't suddenly force myself to feel something I didn't-for all his devotion, all his silent love, I couldn't just reciprocate.
And Nyren knew this. He had known ever since he graduated and turned eighteen, the day he confessed to me properly. I had turned him down, of course, but he didn't falter. He had simply smiled and handed me my favorite flowers. I still didn't understand why he loved me so fiercely. The kind of love that would have him kneel at my feet for hours if I asked, without hesitation. That quiet, unwavering devotion, it both warmed and haunted me.
Even after I rejected him, Nyren never stopped showing me how he felt. I ignored it, buried it under my own distractions, until two years later, when the news hit me like a punch to the chest: Jackson's marriage had been fixed. I had even confessed my feelings to Jackson once more, but, as expected, he rejected me again. I drank. And drank. Until the world blurred into a haze of shame and self-pity.
It was Nyren who left work immediately when he heard, who came for me without a word of complaint. He found me at the bar, barely standing, and guided me home with the patience of someone who knew the storm inside me far too well.
That night, the agony and despair allowed me to surrender. To let myself feel, even just for a while, with Nyren. We spent the night together, bodies entwined, a bittersweet solace for both of us. And since then-almost a year had passed-we existed in this delicate, twisted rhythm.
Whenever I felt broken, when the world became too heavy, I sought him. And Nyren, he let me. He used those nights to ease my pain, while giving a part of himself away, letting himself hurt a little in the process. He held me close, his quiet devotion never wavering, his soft smile always the same. I had been using him, completely, yet he stayed-an idiot in love with me, patiently, silently, endlessly.
After finishing my coffee, I went downstairs and found him serving breakfast, moving with his usual calm precision. Without thinking, I grabbed his collar and pressed my lips to his in a hard, deep kiss, surprising him enough to make him pause mid-motion.
His ears flushed, and he signed shyly, "What happened? So sudden?"
"Just remembered him, wanted to forget it," I muttered, watching his face fall just a little before he nodded faintly, a tiny, bittersweet smile forming.
I pulled a chair close and sat beside him, eating casually while he stared at his own food, picking at it in slow motion.
Breaking the silence, I said, "Auntie just called, wants to make sure you drive me there tomorrow at the right time." I licked my lips and muttered, "Now, can I tell her how damn awkward it is to go to a family function for the fixed marriage of the one I like, with the one who likes me? Wow, I'm really stuck in a mess."
Nyren didn't react immediately. A moment later, he signed softly, "If you're uncomfortable, I can ask the driver to pick you up."
"That's Not the point, idiot," I muttered, rubbing my face in frustration. "Forget it. I just don't care, I don't want to go."
He remained silent, staring at me-or maybe through me-with eyes that held a void filled with longing, pain, and unspoken suffering. And I couldn't help but feel it, every bit of it, pressing down on me like a weight I couldn't shake.
The next day, the function was in full swing-a luxurious banquet, chandeliers glittering, media flashing, rich people in sharp suits mingling everywhere. I, clad in a white silk suit tailored perfectly to my frame, my sky-blue hair styled just right, kept a straight, cold gaze-a do-not-disturb aura that everyone knew not to challenge. I didn't want to be here, but I had no choice. Being close to Jackson and his family meant I had to act, civilized. So I came, acting cool, composed, untouchable.
After greeting the elders politely, I drifted to a corner beside the food table, sipping champagne and eating cake nonstop while keeping my eyes on Jackson. He laughed and smiled so warmly with his fiancée, Emily-a stunning, wealthy girl.
The marriage had been fixed for family reasons, but they genuinely liked each other. And me? I simply liked to suffer, watching them. I glanced down, sighing, shaking my head, before looking toward Nyren.
As always, his eyes were on me. The moment he caught my gaze, he looked away, sipping his wine awkwardly. Dark, crisp suit clung perfectly to his form-tall, muscular, a face straight out of a magazine. Every inch the model, yet his nature remained gentle, quiet, almost timid.
But don't mistake that for weakness. Nyren let the world have its way, quietly, silently-but when it came to me, he didn't let anyone near. He was rich and successful on his own merit, having taken over his father's business and turned it ten times more profitable and renowned.
The golden child of the family, admired and envied in equal measure. And, of course, that drew the occasional taunt-like right now. I hated it when people thought they could challenge him. Especially in my presence.
"Nyren, dear, you've grown so much taller now," a middle-aged lady, his aunt, said with a forced smile.
Nyren gave a polite nod, keeping his expression neutral. "Yes, he's handsome, almost perfect. If only he had a voice," her friend added, eyes scanning him from head to toe, clearly meaning what she said.
Nyren shrank slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Ah, let me join too-this conversation sounds far too interesting," I said, stepping beside him. The moment I appeared, his eyes flickered toward me, lighting up in that way only he could-like he already knew I had his back.
A habit that had never changed since childhood. "Auntie, I think you mean to say he's already perfect. More perfect than most people here," I said, smiling. The ladies exchanged glances.
"Ah, Lucien darling, you know I didn't mean that, of course Nyren is perfect. If only he could speak, he'd be invincible," one said, trying to soften her words.
"Ah, no, you're wrong. He can speak-you just never bothered to care. And this guy here," I nodded toward the aunt, "talks enough to drive anyone insane. Glad he can't do it with his voice, otherwise my ears would've been gone years ago."
Nyren looked down, a shy smile tugging at his lips, shoulders shaking slightly in a quiet chuckle. His happiness was obvious, even if hidden behind that gentle demeanor. The ladies exchanged glances again.
"Lucien, you've always had his back, you really love your little brother, don't you?" one asked. "Yes, remember? Lucien used to call Nyren his baby all the time when they were kids," another added.
Ah, childhood memories. True, I'd always been close to both Jackson and Nyren. Nyren was only a year younger, yet I treated him like he was much younger, calling him "baby" as if it were second nature.
My thoughts were interrupted by a young voice. "Yes, he's always there speaking up for Nyren, since he can't. Such a shame for his voice," one of his cousins laughed.
"Yeah, a shame for you too," I said, raising an eyebrow, my smile polite but sharp. "Since you have such a big mouth spouting nonsense, while he speaks through hard work and patience, and is far more successful than you. Funny, right?"
The room fell silent. The cousins and ladies awkwardly excused themselves and left. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.
"You really need to stop putting up with this crap from useless people. It's annoying."
Nyren sighed, a soft smile spreading across his face, eyes full of warmth and quiet devotion. "I know, but I also know you'll always be here. You never leave me alone around others." he signed.
I bit my lip and looked away, trying to hide the small ache in my chest. "Whatever."
Our attention was drawn to the microphone as Jackson, holding Emily's hand, stepped forward. His voice was full of happiness as he announced their engagement, introducing their upcoming marriage.
Everyone around clapped, cheered, and smiled, congratulating the couple. Except me.
I stood frozen, my chest tight, feeling my eyes sting.
I could almost feel the weight of every gaze around me, and panic bubbled up. Then Nyren was there, stepping in front of me without a word, shielding me from the crowd's eyes. He handed me a plate of cake gently, giving me a small, reassuring nod. I took it, biting into the sweet dessert to distract myself, to control the tears threatening to spill.
I muffled the bites with my trembling mouth, trying to hide the emotion I couldn't hold back. Nyren leaned closer, his warm lips brushing the corner of my mouth to wipe off a crumb gently. His touch was so soft, so intimate, and for a brief moment, the world and my heartbreak felt a little less unbearable.
Even in the middle of everyone else's happiness, he made me feel seen. Protected.
Later that night, Nyren sensed my breakdown and quietly got us out of the party, driving through the cold, starry night. I pressed my forehead to the window, sniffing softly, watching the city blur past.
"Where are we going?" I asked lazily, wiping away stray tears. He didn't answer, only drove on, taking us to his penthouse-and then to his private flower house.
The room smelled of fresh blooms, petals glowing softly under the dim lights. This was his secret sanctuary, a hobby of tending to beautiful flowers that no one else knew about-except me.
I blinked a few times, letting the calm of the room wash over me. The colors, the fragrance, the quiet, it soothed something frayed inside me.
"You think flowers will make me feel better? I'm not a girl, remember?" I muttered, annoyed, trying to sound harsh-but my hand gently caressed the velvety petal of a rose.
"You know, I used to think you only cared about me," I admitted, my voice softening.
"Until I found this, your hobby." Nyren's eyes blinked, then his hands moved elegantly, signing rapidly yet gracefully: "You're still the first. You always will be the first-and only-person I care about most."
I felt my cheeks heat up, caught off guard by the earnestness in his gaze.
"I don't need you to. I'm the older one-I'm supposed to do the caring," I said, turning my face away, pretending not to feel the ache in my chest.
He smiled softly, signing again, his eyes gentle but insistent: "You've done it all this time, now it's my turn." I averted my gaze, my heart aching as if something were squeezing it painfully.
"Just because I helped you a few times as a kid, doesn't mean you need to take care of me now. I'm just, born kind," I muttered. Nyren's eyes didn't waver. His yearning gaze pierced me, and I felt the weight of his love pressing against my chest. I knew, without a doubt, that no one could love me more than he did. And yet, my heart couldn't return it. The love I had for Jackson blinded me, chaining me to my own selfish pain. If only I hadn't loved Jackson, things could have been so different.
Seeing my downcast mood, Nyren stepped closer, his head gently resting against mine as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. His warm breath brushed my neck as he signed softly: "Please, don't be sad anymore. It's really too hard for me to bear."
I swallowed hard, feeling the firm yet gentle grip around me. A small smile tugged at my lips as I set the flowers down and turned to face him, my eyes meeting his.
"What'll you do if I keep being sad?" I asked, teasing lightly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
"Blame myself," he sighed, his gaze unwavering, watching me like I was the entire world he wanted to claim for himself.
"Blame for what?" I tilted my head slightly, exposing my neck, watching him react. He hesitated, then signed carefully: "Blame myself for not being able to make you happier. Otherwise, what's the point of loving you this much if I can't even make you feel better in hard times?"
"Wow, so dramatic," I laughed, though my heart flipped in my chest. I said nothing, only smiled, raising my palms to gently caress his hair.
Without hesitation, I pulled his head closer, resting it against my neck. He melted instantly against my warm skin, lips brushing softly as he held me tighter. I smiled, pressing closer, letting his warmth, his scent, and the way he fit against me seep into every corner of my tense heart.
For the first time in hours, the heaviness eased, replaced by the comforting weight of him and the quiet intimacy of the moment.