Dante woke up the next morning with a heavy, sinking feeling in his stomach.He didn't want to open his eyes.All he could do was replay every impulsive decision, every bit of thoughtless cruelty wrapped in arrogance.
The email.The cancellation.Isaac struggling with money, burning himself out trying to balance work and school.
And Dante…Dante acting like nothing mattered.
He pressed both hands over his face.
How could I do that?How the hell was I that cruel?
He didn't dislike Isaac.Not like that.Not enough to justify something so low.And now Isaac was part of their group. They saw each other more often, shared the same spaces, the same people.
A notification from the group chat lit up his screen.
Claire, far too cheerful for the morning:
"Don't forget: today is ISAAC'S BIRTHDAY "
Perfect.As if he needed one more reason to feel like garbage.
If he didn't show up? He'd look like an asshole.If he did? He'd have to pretend nothing was wrong.And apologizing…Isaac would think he was only doing it because of the complaint.
Which… in part, was true.But not entirely.Dante genuinely regretted it.And although he'd never admit it out loud, Isaac had started to… grow on him.Just—he wanted to be his friend.
Even though that felt impossible now.
Claire eventually convinced Isaac to take the day off.By the afternoon, they were all meeting at a seasonal fair set up on the edge of Westwood's mountains.The cold was dry and sharp, and the whole place buzzed with crowds and laughter.
Keegan was complaining loudly.
"Do any of you know how hard it is to turn twenty-four?" he announced dramatically, placing a hand on Isaac's shoulder like he was presenting a museum exhibit. "This man has been waiting here for ages. Have some respect!"
Isaac bumped him off with a faint eye roll, and everyone burst out laughing.
They split briefly, some went into an escape room, while Claire and Dante headed toward the roller coaster.
Dante walked beside her, but his usual confident posture was gone.He wasn't watching the crowd, wasn't smirking at strangers, wasn't teasing Claire every three steps.He was somewhere else entirely, lost in a thick fog of dread.
"Hey… are you okay, Dant?" Claire asked, tilting her head.
Dante didn't look at her."Don't call me Dant. I don't like it when people shorten my name."
She stared at him.She honestly couldn't tell if he was joking.
"I'm serious, Dante. What's going on?"
He shook his head like it was nothing and turned away.
Truth was… he felt trapped.Claire had always been the person he could tell anything to without fear.But this?This was different.If the group ever found out what he had done, they'd hate him.They'd cut him off.They'd stop trusting him.
And Isaac…
Just thinking about it made him nauseous.
Later, when the group regrouped, they admired the view from the top of the hill.Westwood glowed in the distance, a sea of lights under a pale winter sky.
"I'm going to grab food. Anyone want something?" María asked.
Ethan and Claire immediately raised their hands.
"How about the birthday boy?" she teased.
Isaac shook his head, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket.
"I'm good. I'll just go smoke for a bit."
"No, no," Claire objected. "We'll go get the food. Stay here."
She turned to Dante.
"You coming?"
He shrugged."Nah. I'll wait here."
There was something off about him, but Claire didn't push.
And then the group walked away, leaving only two people on the hill.
Only the wind remained.The cold breeze lifted Isaac's black hair, tied in a half-pony, letting a few strands brush against his cheek.His golden eyes reflected the city below, quiet and unreadable.
Dante watched him.The longer he watched, the worse the nausea got.
How the hell am I supposed to know if he'll forgive me? He doesn't react to anything.He's like a damn statue.I hate it. I fucking hate not being able to read him.
He moved closer.Isaac noticed instantly and glanced sideways.
"What?"
That single word hit harder than it should have.
Dante frowned, shoved a small box from his pocket, and held it out as if it weighed a ton.
A black, elegant Dunhill box.Minimalist.Expensive.Impossible to mistake.
"Here," he muttered.
Isaac took it slowly, confused.He turned it in his hands, studying the details.
"What is it?"
"What do you think?" Dante snapped. "Since you're not gonna quit smoking, at least stop using those cheap lighters."
Isaac opened the box.The weight of the metal lighter settled into his palm, cold, heavy, beautiful.
But more shocking than the gift itself…was who it came from.
His lips curled, almost without meaning to, into a soft, subtle smile.
Dante froze.And suddenly the guilt flooded back ten times stronger.
"It's not a birthday gift," he blurted."It's just… charity. You use such shitty lighters I'm convinced you'll burn your face off one of these days."
He crossed his arms, turning toward the city, trying to hide his expression.
Isaac watched him in silence.The moonlight brushed over Dante's pale skin, catching on the tiny mole beneath his eye.It was hard to believe this chaotic redhead could be so… gentle.
"Dante," Isaac said at last.
He turned sharply, already annoyed.
"What now?"
Isaac pocketed the lighter.A faint, honest smile lingered.
"Thanks."
Dante's stomach dropped. He didn't know what to do with that word. Didn't know where to look. Didn't know how to breathe for a second.
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
He only dipped his head, turning away again, heart lodged somewhere in his throat.
If Isaac knew…If he knew what I did…
He'd hate me. And maybe he should.
So why does that hurt so damn much?
Isaac returned to his dorm exhausted, but with a quiet sense of gratitude warming his chest.And yet, something still ached inside him.Birthdays had never been a big deal, but his mother always made them feel special.He remembered how she baked him a strawberry cake every year, his favorite since he was a kid.Now, in the stillness of his room, those memories wrapped around him like an embrace that no longer existed.
A single tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it.
He pulled out a cigarette, then the new lighter.He held it between his fingers for a long moment, watching how the metal caught the dim light.A strange flutter ran through him, somewhere between his chest and his stomach.
And he smiled.He remembered Dante's expression when he gave it to him: awkward, tense, almost uncomfortable… but strangely sincere in a way Isaac hadn't expected.
He's… kind of cute, he thought before he even realized it.
The second the thought registered, his eyes snapped wide open.
What the hell did I just think?He shook his head immediately.
Nah… I'm tired. Sentimental. That's all.
He put the cigarette away without even lighting it.Washed his face, brushed his teeth, and slipped under the blankets.For the first time in weeks, sleep came quickly.
Effortless.