Kaius Oziel
My vision tunneled. The music turned into static. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat, my ears, my fingers. I blinked, once, twice, waiting for the hallucination to dissolve, for the alcohol to confess it was just a trick of lights and shadows.
It didn't change.
He leaned in. Closer. Their lips brushed.
My stomach lurched.
"You can't—" My voice cracked. I swallowed hard. "That's… that's not…"
There were a dozen excuses trying to claw their way up my throat.
That's not him.
He's drunk.
He doesn't know what he's doing.
It's a misunderstanding.
Maybe it's a friend.
Maybe he's just—just—
"Team dinner, huh?" Haden said quietly.
The world tilted. I stepped back from the railing, one hand clutching at the metal as if it could hold me up when my legs seemed to forget how to be solid.
"He said…" My lips felt numb. "He said… restaurant. He said… he said he was… trying."
Julian had looked me in the eye. He had taken my hands, promised he'd change. He had cried. Hard. He had told me he understood how badly he'd broken me the first time, and he was going to spend the rest of his life proving I didn't make a mistake by staying, by giving him a chance, by choosing him again.
And I believed him.
I believed him so much that every red flag that came after that, I turned into white. Every unanswered call was "He's tired." Every last-seen-at-2-a.m. was "Maybe he just couldn't sleep." Every "I'm busy, can we talk tomorrow?" became "He's working hard for his future. For our future."
Those late-night doubts? I called them paranoia.
Now, watching him kiss someone else again under flashing lights, my paranoia stared back at me and laughed.
"Let's go," Haden said suddenly. "You don't need to see more."
"Yes," I whispered, but my feet were already moving. "I do."
I don't remember going down the stairs. I don't remember weaving through the crowd. Faces blurred into streaks of color and sweat. The music pounded against my skull like a second heartbeat. All I could see was him. All I could think was his name.
He didn't see me at first.
He was too busy. Too absorbed in the warmth of someone else's body. His hands were on their hips, their fingers tangled in his hair. He looked… happy. Carefree. Like this wasn't wrong. Like he didn't have a boyfriend waiting somewhere, holding onto his promises like a lifeline.
"Julian."
My voice came out hoarse, raw, but it cut through the music like a blade. He froze. The stranger pulled back, startled, glancing between us. Julian turned, and when his eyes landed on me, his face went white.
"Kaius," he breathed.
There it was. My name in his voice. The same way he'd always said it; soft, aching, like I was fragile and precious.
I wanted to be sick.
"I knew it," I said, and my voice shook, but the words came anyway, torn from somewhere deep and dark. "I knew it. I knew it. I knew it, and I still chose to believe you."
He reached out instinctively again, like he wanted to touch me, but I flinched back. The motion drew a small gasp from the people around us, the nearest ones sensing drama even over the music.
"Babe, listen—"
"I thought you had changed." The words slipped out in the language my heart defaulted to when it hurt the most. I could feel eyes on us now, phones lifting, people slowing down to watch the wreckage unfold. Everything is happening again. For the second time. "I really thought you changed. I gave you a second chance, Julian."
"It's not what it looks like," he said, already falling into the script he always used, the one I knew too well. "We were just—"
"Dancing?" I laughed, and the sound was sharp, almost hysterical. "You call that dancing? Team dinner looks a lot like you pressing yourself against someone who isn't me?!"
He opened his mouth, desperation flickering in his eyes. "Please, babe, you're drunk. Let's talk somewhere else, okay? Let's not do this here."
"Why?" I asked. "Is it embarrassing? Being caught? For the second time? Fucker."
His jaw tightened. I could see the shift in him, like a switch flipping. The guilt in his gaze flickered, replaced by irritation.
"What are you even doing here?" he snapped. "You told me you were going home. You could've just—"
"Don't," a new voice cut in, low and furious.
Haden stepped forward, positioning himself half in front of me. His eyes were blazing. His fist was clenched at his side, his chest heaving with anger he wasn't even trying to hide.
"Do not even try to turn this around," he spat. "You're the one caught grinding on someone else while lying about where you are. You do not get to ask why we're here."
Julian scoffed. "So what, now you're his guard dog?"
"At least I know what loyalty means," Haden shot back.
The crowd around us thickened, drawn like moths to a burning house.
"Kai," Julian said again, ignoring Haden. I watched him step closer, watched his mask shift from defensive to pleading. "Please. Let's talk. I made a mistake, okay? I drank too much, they pulled me to dance, I—"
"Stop." My voice was barely louder than a whisper, but he froze anyway. "Stop making excuses. You knew what you were doing."
His eyes softened, and for a second, I saw the boy I fell in love with.. again..the warmth, the gentle lines, the way his gaze held mine like I was the only thing that mattered. Fuck I'm seeing him again!! And I was once fooled by it!
"I love you," he said. "That hasn't changed."
It hit me like another slap.
"Then why?" I croaked. "If you love me so much, why wasn't I enough… again?"
His façade cracked. Frustration burst through the cracks. "I'm only human, Kai. People make mistakes."
"Once, yeah," Haden hissed. "Twice? That's not a mistake. That's a pattern."
Julian ignored him. His focus stayed on me, eyes shining, voice softening the way he always did when he wanted to get inside my defenses.
"We can just forget this happened," he said. "Please. We're both here, we're both drunk, we both made bad choices—"
"We both?" Haden barked out a humorless laugh. "What did he do? Drink with his friend? That's your great equalizer? You kiss strangers and he has to 'forget' it because he's at a bar too?"
My hand was trembling.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, Lucien's voice echoed.
"He knows you'll always come back. And he's taking advantage of that."
Was that what this was? Did he dance with someone else because deep down, he believed I wouldn't leave? That no matter what, I'd stay, patching us back together, telling myself love was enough to survive anything?
"I gave you another chance," I whispered. The words came slow, like each one hurt to say. "Do you understand that? I put my heart back in your hands after you broke it. I chose you when every person I cared about told me not to. Do you have any idea how much it took for me to trust you again?"
His eyes shined with tears. "I know. I know, and I'm sorry, okay? I'm so—"
My hand moved before I could think.
The sound of the slap cut through the music, a sharp crack that turned more heads. His face snapped to the side, cheek reddening. For a split second, everyone around us seemed to freeze.
"I should've believed them," I choked out, my voice shaking with rage and grief tangled together. "I knew you hadn't changed. Part of me knew. And I still begged myself to believe you."
His hand flew to his cheek, eyes wide with shock. Then, unbelievably, anger flared.
"You hit me?" he shouted. "Because I was dancing? You're being insane, Kai! You're so paranoid all the time, always doubting me! What did you think would happen when you keep pushing and pushing and—"
"You don't get to blame him, fucker!" Haden snapped.
And then his fist shot up Julian's jaw.
Julian stumbled backward, crashing into someone behind him. People screamed, bodies shuffled, the circle around us widening. Haden grabbed my arm before I could react, pulling me away from the scene.
"Let's go," he said through gritted teeth. "You're not staying here for this."
I didn't fight him. I couldn't. I was numb, my limbs moving only because someone else was forcing them to. Behind me, I could hear Julian shouting my name, but the sound felt distant, like it was coming from underwater.
"Kai!" he yelled. "Don't walk away! We can fix this!"
Fix this.
The first time, those words were a lifeline.
This time, they were cursed.
By the time we reached Haden's place, my body was running on autopilot. The moment the door closed behind us, the silence hit harder than the music ever did. My legs gave out. I crumpled onto the couch, fingers shaking as they covered my face.
"Breathe," Haden said quietly, kneeling in front of me. "Hey. Look at me. Breathe."
"I shouldn't have gone," I whispered through my hands. "I shouldn't have seen it. I shouldn't have asked. I shouldn't have stayed. I shouldn't have given him another chance. God, I'm so stupid—"
"Don't you dare say that," Haden said sharply. "You're not stupid. You loved him. That's not a crime."
"It is," I said, laughter and sobs tangled together. "It feels like one. Like I've been punishing myself by loving him more than he ever deserved."
He sighed and rested a hand on my shoulder, grounding. "He did this. Not you."
But the blame didn't listen. It crawled under my skin anyway.
If you had left the first time, this wouldn't be happening now.
You knew what he was capable of.
You saw the signs.
You stayed.
"I let him do this to me," I whispered. "I saw the cracks. I felt them. Every time he said he couldn't call, every time he pulled away, I felt it. And I still clung to him like if I just loved him enough, he'd stop wanting anyone else."
"That's not on you," Haden repeated firmly. "He chose to hurt you. Again."
I stared past him, eyes unfocused. The words weren't reaching the place where the pain lived.
"He knows I always come back," I said. "That's the worst part. He knows. He's seen it. I leave, I break down, I forgive. He cries, I forgive. He says 'I love you,' I forgive. He said sorry once and got away with it. Why wouldn't he think he could do it again?"
Haden's jaw clenched. "You're not going back this time."
I didn't answer.
Because the truth terrified me: I didn't trust myself not to.
Haden stood up with a sigh. "I'm going to run to the pharmacy," he said gently. "Get us something for the headache you're going to hate in the morning. Don't move, okay? Just try to lie down. You've had enough for tonight." Haden kissed my forehead.
I nodded without really seeing him.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The apartment went quiet.
In that silence, the grief grew teeth. It chewed through every defense I had left. Tears slipped down my cheeks, hot and endless, dripping onto my clasped hands. My chest ached with the kind of hurt that I don't think I can survive.
How am I supposed to trust anyone after this?
How am I supposed to trust myself?
Lucien's voice surfaced again, clear as if he were in the room with me: He knows you'll always come back, no matter what. And he's taking advantage of that.
Back then, I told him he didn't understand, because he never liked anyone to begin with. Told him love made things complicated.
Now, love just made me feel foolish.
I pushed myself up from the couch, the room swaying for a second. My head throbbed, but beneath the physical pain was something sharper, colder, or maybe just desperation.
Sitting here waiting for Haden to come back felt like pressing pause on my life. The agony wasn't going anywhere. The questions weren't going anywhere. And there was only one person who had ever looked me in the eye and told me the truth I didn't want to hear.
Lucien.
I'd walked back into Julian's arms and left him hanging.
And now here I was, exactly where he said I'd be.
I went to Haden's bathroom. I still feel my head throb so I took a bath, changed my clothes I got from Haden's closet. After that, I felt sober and clear-headed.
I grabbed my jacket with shaky hands, half-thinking, half running on instinct. My phone buzzed on the table, Haden, probably, but I didn't check. Instead I messaged the person occupying my mind right now. I messaged Lucien. When I got a message from him saying "Damn. [location] Bring food, okay?" I slipped my phone into my pocket and got my Haden's keys.
One more look at the empty condo.
One more breath that hurt all the way down.
Then I stepped out into the hall, closed the door behind me, and walked toward the only person who had been right about him all along.
Because I needed someone to hold up a mirror and force me to see who I'd become: the boy who stayed, and stayed, and stayed, until there was nothing left of him, but the echo of a second chance wasted on someone who never deserved the first.