CHAPTER 96

CHAPTER 96
POV: Ethan

Ethan couldn’t remember when the air in the apartment started feeling so heavy. Maybe it was after the last fight, the one where Dominic stopped raising his voice and simply walked out, leaving silence in his place. 

Or maybe it was before that, in the quiet accumulation of small, invisible things: unread messages, brief glances, and unfinished sentences. Now, even when Dominic was home, it felt like he wasn’t.

The mornings were the worst. The smell of coffee brewing without a word exchanged. The soft sound of a spoon tapping against ceramic while Dominic scrolled through emails. 

Ethan had learned to time his movements, brushing past him just enough to feel his presence but never long enough to be noticed. Tyler noticed, though. Tyler always noticed.

He’d lean against the doorway sometimes, arms crossed, wearing that half-smile that looked more like a secret than an expression. “Rough night?” he’d ask, his tone hovering somewhere between genuine concern and quiet amusement.

“Don’t you have your own place?” Ethan would mutter, brushing past him.

Tyler would chuckle. “This is more fun.”

That was the problem. Everything with Tyler was a game. A carefully measured mix of teasing and sincerity that left Ethan perpetually off balance. There were moments, fleeting, dangerous moments when he’d almost fall for it. 

When the sharpness in Tyler’s gaze softened, and he looked at Ethan like he could actually see him but then Tyler would smirk again, and the illusion would shatter.

It wasn’t that Ethan didn’t know better. He did. He saw the manipulation, the way Tyler lingered whenever Dominic wasn’t around, the way he asked just the right questions to plant doubt. 

Does Dominic ever talk about you at work? He’s been spending a lot of time with Claire, hasn’t he? Little things, said lightly, left to fester and Ethan hated that they did. That he couldn’t just let them roll off his back like he used to.

He told himself it was stress. Overwork. Maybe jealousy. But deep down, it wasn’t just that. It was the ache of feeling invisible. Dominic’s walls had gone up again, and Ethan was left pacing outside, desperate for a door that wouldn’t open.

Tyler, infuriatingly, knew exactly where that door was.

That afternoon, Ethan found him in the kitchen his sleeves rolled up, music low, humming to himself as he cut limes. The domesticity of it all made Ethan pause in the doorway.

Tyler looked up, catching the hesitation. “You’re staring,” he said lightly.

“You’re in my kitchen,” Ethan shot back.

“Correction, Dominic’s kitchen.” Tyler smiled, flicking a piece of lime peel at him. “You just live here.”

The comment hit harder than it should have. Ethan scowled. “You really enjoy pushing buttons, don’t you?”

Tyler leaned on the counter. “Only yours.”

The honesty in that made Ethan’s chest tighten. “You don’t even hide it.”

“Why should I?” Tyler said. “Everyone’s pretending here. At least I’m honest about what I want.”

Ethan folded his arms. “And what’s that?”

Tyler’s gaze lingered too long, not hungry, not soft, and just deliberate. “Truth,” he said finally. “And maybe a little chaos.”

Ethan almost laughed. “Congratulations. You’re good at both.”

“I try,” Tyler said, voice lower now. “But you make it easy.”

The silence stretched, thick, uneasy, charged. Ethan felt the warmth of the room shift, pressing closer. There was something about the way Tyler looked at him not like he wanted to win, but like he wanted to understand. That was the most dangerous part.

“Whatever game you’re playing,” Ethan said, breaking the tension, “find someone else.”

Tyler tilted his head. “You think this is a game?”

“I know it is.”

Tyler smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You sound just like Dominic.”

That name Dominic snapped Ethan out of whatever fog he’d been drifting into. His chest tightened, frustration rising again. “Yeah, well, maybe he’s the only one making any sense around here.”

“Is he?” Tyler asked quietly. “Because from where I’m standing, he hasn’t looked at you in weeks.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know what distance looks like,” Tyler said, tone almost gentle now. “And I know you’re trying so hard to hold onto something that’s already slipping through your fingers.”

Ethan wanted to argue. To tell him to shut up. To shove him away and call him out for every manipulative word. But all he could think about was the truth in what Tyler said, how Dominic’s eyes had started to slide past him, how every conversation ended before it began.

Tyler stepped closer, slow enough for Ethan to notice every inch of space between them shrinking.

“I’m not the enemy, Ethan,” he said softly. “You just want someone to blame.”

Ethan took a step back. “You’re not that innocent.”

Tyler’s smile was small, almost sad. “Never said I was.”

The sound of Dominic’s office door closing down the hall made Ethan flinch, guilt blooming in his chest even though nothing had happened. Tyler noticed that too. Of course he did.

“Go,” Tyler murmured. “Before he sees you talking to me and decides I’ve ruined another thing for him.”

Ethan’s throat tightened. “You really think I’m that easy to turn against him?”

“I think,” Tyler said, “you already have doubts. I just don’t lie about them.” Ethan didn’t answer. He just turned and walked out, pulse racing, the air in the apartment suddenly too thick to breathe. 

He didn’t see the faint smirk that flickered across Tyler’s face when the door shut behind him or the brief shadow of something that wasn’t quite satisfaction. Maybe regret. Maybe victory. Maybe both.

That night, Dominic didn’t come to bed. Ethan lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the last time Dominic had reached for him, the last time their laughter hadn’t felt rehearsed. The walls were quiet, the kind of quiet that felt permanent.

He wanted to hate Tyler for knowing exactly where to press. He wanted to hate Dominic for making it so easy. But mostly, he hated himself for the way his mind kept circling back to that look, Tyler’s eyes in the kitchen, dark and unflinching, the smallest flicker of something human hiding behind all that bravado.

He told himself it meant nothing. That it was manipulation, nothing more. He told himself he hated Tyler. He repeated it like a mantra, until the words lost meaning.

Still, when he heard footsteps in the hall the next morning, that easy stride, that low hum Ethan’s gaze flicked toward the door before he could stop it.