KEIFER'S POV —
Just as I was about to leave the hotel far from the place where I could see her touching him the alert on all the phones combined cuts through the lobby like a gunshot.
When every phone in the lobby screamed at once, alarms slicing through the air, emergency alerts flashing about a sudden storm, citywide lockdown, roads sealed like a cage snapping shut, and the manager's voice shaking just enough as he announced no one leaves, not tonight, not until further notice.
And of course—of course—my eyes find her, clinging to him like he's safety, like he's home...
Something inside me turns dark in a way that isn't loud anymore, just… controlled, lethal, as I start walking toward them anyway, because rules have never applied to me when it comes to her.
But he steps in front of me.
Of course he does.
"Mr. Watson," Chris says, polite tone, sharp eyes, body angled just enough to block me from her, "with all due respect… you need to stay away from my girlfriend."
Girlfriend.
The word doesn't hit—it sinks.
Deep. Quiet. Permanent.
My gaze flicks to her.She doesn't correct him.
Doesn't pull away.Doesn't even look at me.
And that?
That's worse than any slap.
A slow smile pulls at my lips—but there's nothing amused about it.
"You should be careful," I say softly, stepping closer anyway, close enough that only he hears it, "men who borrow things they can't keep… tend to forget they were never theirs."
His jaw tightens.
"Funny," he murmurs back, not backing down, "because she seems to be standing exactly where she wants to be."
That's when I laugh.Low. Sharp. Humorless because if I stay another second—I will drag him off her myself.
I turned around quick signalling the boys that I need to be alone and took the room key and walked away.
But I didn't miss it—the way her grip tightens for just a second when I leave.
The room is too quiet.Too empty,too far from her.
The first drink burns.The second does nothing.By the third, I stop counting.Because no matter how much I drown it—Her voice still cuts through.
I love him.
Bullshit.
My hand tightens around the glass until it almost cracks.I close my eyes—and all I see is her.
In green.
Looking like she belongs to no one.Least of all me.Something reckless settles in my chest.Something stupid.Something inevitable and before I can think better of it—
I'm already out the door.
---
JAY'S POV —
The storm doesn't build.
It crashes.
Rain slamming into the glass like it's trying to get in, lightning tearing the sky apart, thunder so loud it vibrates through the floor—and honestly?
It feels deserved.
I pace once. Twice.
Then drop onto the bed with a frustrated groan.
"Perfect," I mutter. "Trapped in the same hotel as all of the boys who I hate especially the one who made me hate love...Wow universe, you really outdid yourself."
My phone buzzes.
Chris.
I pick up.
"Tell me you're alive," he says immediately.
"Barely."
He exhales. "Listen… about earlier—"
"Don't," I cut in, sitting up. "You escalated."
"You asked me to."
"I said create chaos, not start a war."
A pause.
Then softer, "He looked like he was going to lose it, Jay."
I don't respond because I saw that felt it.
"…are you okay?" he asks.
That question—I hate that question.
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
"Goodnight, Chris."
I hang up before he can push further.
And then—BANG.
I freeze.
BANG. BANG.BANG
My eyes narrow.
"…if that's you, Chris, I swear—"
I yank the door open—and everything in me stops.
Keifer.
Standing there.
Shirt half unbuttoned, sleeves rolled messily, hair damp like he ran his hands through it too many times, tie gone, collar loose—completely undone in a way that feels wrong on someone like him.
One hand gripping a wine bottle.
The other braced against the doorframe.
Eyes unfocused.Breathing uneven and even from here—
I can feel the heat radiating off him.
"What are you doing here…you look like hell," I say automatically.
He doesn't answer.He just looks at me.Like he forgot how.
Then suddenly—He moves and just—collapses into me.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me in hard enough to knock the breath out of me, his forehead dropping against my shoulder, his grip tightening like I'm the only thing keeping him upright.
"Keifer—what—"
He doesn't let go.
"Don't…" he mumbles, voice rough, barely there, "don't do that again…"
My heart stutters.
"…do what?"
No answer.Just heat and weight.
And—Oh.Oh no.
"…are you crying?"
I go completely still because this man?
This man does not cry.
"Okay—no—nope—we are not doing this—get off—"
I drag him inside, kicking the door shut behind me, struggling under his weight until I somehow get him onto the bed.
He drops instantly barely conscious.
Still burning.
I press my hand to his forehead—and jerk back.
"What the hell—Keifer, you're on fire!"
He groans something unintelligible.
"Great. Amazing. Love that for me."
I grab the first aid kit, water, medicine—kneeling beside him.
"Sit up," I mutter, trying to pull him up.
He slumps.
"Cooperate."
Nothing.
I try to get the pill in—
He turns his head stubbornly.
"Are you serious right now?? You can outbid half the world but can't swallow one tablet??"
Nothing.
I'm about to lose my mind when—My phone rings.
Kyle.
Perfect timing.
I pick up immediately. "What."
"Wow, hello to you too," he says dryly. "You sound like you're committing a murder."
"Not yet, but give me ten minutes, you'll get a headline for tomorrow's newspaper," I snap. "Can we talk like later He's here."
"…who."
I pause.
"…the problem himself."
"Jay."
"KEIFER,Okayy" I hiss.
"He's in my room highly drunk and almost about to die with a fever of almost 102 and is currently refusing medicine. I don't know what to do."
Silence.
Then—"…you're kidding."
"I wish I was but I'm literally spiralling here because he's not taking the medicine and if he doesn't and dies I'll be in the police station tomorrow for being a suspect in killing him and would need an attorney which is crazy because I'm myself an attorney but WAIT! The point is I need help, you're a doc tell me how should I insert medicine into his damn body..."
A beat.
Then his voice switches—calm, clinical.
"Okay firstly calm the hell down Jay Jay and listen carefully. You need to get fluids into him first."
"I TRIED. He's acting like I'm poisoning him."
"Then we improvise."
I narrow my eyes. "I don't like that tone."
"Take the medicine. Put it on his lips."
"…okay…?"
"Then take water in your mouth and transfer it to his."
I freeze.
"…I'm sorry, WHAT??"
"It's basic assisted hydration—"
"KYLE THAT IS NOT WHAT THAT SOUNDS LIKE."
"Do you want him to pass out completely or not?"
I look at Keifer.
Sweating.
Barely conscious.
Still mumbling my name like it's a problem.
I close my eyes.
"…I hate everyone."
"Focus, Jay."
"Shut up."
I hang up.
Stare at Keifer.
Stare at the medicine,stare at my life choices.
"This is how I die," I whisper.
Then I lean closer, gripping his jaw lightly.
"Listen to me," I mutter under my breath, even though he can't hear me, "if you wake up and remember this, I will end you myself."
No response.
I take a breath.
Do exactly what Kyle said.
And the second it works—the SECOND he actually swallows—
I jerk back like I've just committed a crime against humanity.
"Oh my GOD—absolutely not—this did not happen—this is not real—"
Keifer shifts slightly, breathing evening out just a little and then—
His hand moves and grabs mine.
But tight enough to stop me from pulling away.
"Don't go again…don't leave me again Jay..." he murmurs.
And I—I go completely still because suddenly the storm outside isn't the loudest thing anymore.
It's this.
This stupid, complicated, impossible man—
Holding onto me like I'm the only thing keeping him here.
And I hate it.
I hate how my hand doesn't pull away.
I hate how I stay.
I hate how, for the first time tonight—
I don't want to leave.