The night had fully reclaimed the sky by the time Dave Henry pulled his motorcycle into the expansive, gravel-lined driveway of the their estate. The house was a sprawling monument to modern architecture.
As the engine cut out, the silence that rushed in was deafening.
Dave stepped into the foyer, the marble floors echoing with the solitary click of his boots. The lights were on a timer, casting a dim, artificial glow over the designer furniture. He didn't check the mail on the mahogany side table; he knew what would be there—utility bills and generic invitations to galas his parents wouldn't attend. He walked through the high-ceilinged dining room toward the kitchen.
The table was set for one. A silver tray sat at the head, covered with a cloche. Beside it was a typed note from the housekeeper: Master Dave, your parents have extended their stay in Singapore by another week. Dinner is glazed salmon with asparagus. Please leave the tray in the sink.
Dave didn't even read the note to the end. He had been eating alone since he was ten years old. "Business trip" was the soundtrack of his childhood. He ate mechanically, the food tasting like ash in the cavernous room. Every clink of his fork against the fine china felt like an intrusion on the stillness.
Once finished, he retreated to his bedroom—a space that felt more like a high-end hotel suite than a teenager's sanctuary. He stripped off his jacket, tossing it onto a leather armchair, and collapsed onto his king-sized bed. The first thing he reached for was the burner phone he kept hidden under his pillow.
He opened the chat with the contact saved simply as Alex with a lovely emoji. His thumb hovered over the keyboard for a second, a small, genuine smile softening the sharp lines of his face.
HD: Did you make it back to your place okay? The streets were getting a bit crowded when I left.
He waited, his heart doing a strange, unfamiliar flutter. A minute later, the screen lit up.
Alex: Yeah, I'm home. Just finished changing. Thanks for the games today. I actually had a good time.
Dave let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He rolled onto his side, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his dark, intense eyes.
HD: I'm glad. I wasn't lying when I said you're handsome, Alex. Seriously. Even with that hood up, you have this... presence. Are you mixed? Your features are so unique. I couldn't stop looking at you.
Back in his small apartment, Alex sat on his bed, his damp hair clinging to his neck after a quick shower. He stared at the screen, his face heating up. He hesitated, then typed back.
Alex: Is it that obvious? Yeah, I'm half. My dad is Chinese, and my mom was Canadian. I guess I got a bit of both.
HD: That explains it. You have that delicate Chinese bone structure but those deep Canadian eyes. It's a beautiful combination. You're honestly the most stunning guy I've ever met.
Alex bit his lip, his mind racing. He thought of Dave in the arcade—the way he had laughed, the way he had been so gentle. Then he thought of Dave in the Student Council office—the predator, the authority figure who had forced a "thief" into a contract. The cognitive dissonance was dizzying.
Alex: You're not so bad yourself. You're handsome, I won't deny that. You look like you'd have a line of people waiting to date you.
HD: Maybe. But most people only see the mask I wear. With you, I feel like I can actually breathe.
Alex took a deep breath, deciding to push the boundary. He needed to know the truth. He needed to know if the man who was currently claiming to be his "boyfriend" at school was a total fraud.
Alex: Can I ask you something personal? Since we're being honest. Are you... completely gay? Or are you bisexual? You mentioned having a lot of 'fans' at school.
Dave stared at the question. He didn't even have to think about the answer. To him, the world of girls and their high-pitched giggles and expectations of traditional romance had always felt like a foreign language he refused to learn.
HD: I'm 100% gay, Alex. I've never been interested in girls. Not even the 'prettiest' ones on campus. They do nothing for me. My heart—and everything else—only reacts to men. Specifically, right now, it's reacting to a guy in a hoodie who's too shy to show his face.
Alex stared at the screen, the words burning into his retinas. "I've never been interested in girls."
A cold knot formed in his stomach. If Dave was completely gay, then why was he so obsessed with "Alex the girl"? Why had he tucked that hair behind her ear with such tenderness? Why had he taken a photo of her? Why was he forcing her to be his girlfriend?
He's playing with me, Alex thought, a surge of hurt and anger washing over him. He knows I'm a scholarship student with no power, so he's using me as a prop to keep up his 'straight' reputation at school. He's just a bully using a girl's body to hide his own secrets.
Alex didn't reply. He tossed the phone onto the nightstand and curled into a ball, the synthetic wig sitting on the vanity like a silent witness to his humiliation.
Meanwhile, across town, Dave Henry set his phone down on his chest. He stared up at the dark ceiling, the silence of the mansion no longer feeling so heavy. He thought about the boy he had met at the arcade—the way his voice had been low and nervous, the way his shoulders had tensed when they touched.
Then, his mind shifted. He thought about the girl in the Student Council office—the way her skin had felt under his thumb, the way she had looked at him with those same "deer in the headlights" eyes.
He didn't feel conflicted. He didn't feel like he was lying. He reached out and picked up his other phone—the official one. He opened the photo he had taken of the girl writing the list. Then he opened the photo of the boy from the arcade.
He looked at them side-by-side. The similarities were undeniable to anyone who was really looking. The way the chin narrowed. The specific shape of the ears.
Dave's eyes darkened with a terrifying, brilliant spark of amusement. He ran his finger over the screen, touching both images.
"Half-Chinese, half-Canadian," Dave whispered into the dark room. He remembered the girl's floral scent and the boy's nervous energy. He remembered the girlfriend he had claimed and the friend he had pursued.
A slow, triumphant smirk spread across his face. He knew. He had known since the moment he saw the boy's eyes behind that van. He had known since he felt the pulse in the girl's wrist.
"Both Alexs are quite charming," Dave murmured, his voice thick with a dark, possessive satisfaction. "And both of them belong to me."
He closed his eyes, drifting into a deep sleep, already imagining the look on Alex's face tomorrow.