Chapter 61 SELF HATE
Eli's POV
I think this is the part where I’m supposed to know what I feel.
Where things line up neatly and I can point at one emotion and say, this is it. Jealousy. Hurt. Anger. Love. Something with a name. Something I can defend.
But all I feel is… loud.
My head won’t shut up. Every thought trips over the next one, and none of them make sense on their own. I keep replaying things that already happened, twisting them into worse versions, punishing myself with what-ifs and maybes like I deserve it.
I keep asking myself when exactly I lost control… why did I get on my knees? Why did I listen to Anton's voice, his commands, ordering me to open up my mouth and suck Julian's cock. Why did I like the praises and head pat I got from both of them after?
Was it the first time someone looked at me like I mattered?
Was it the way attention wrapped around me so suddenly, so completely, that I didn’t even think to step back?
Or was it always there, waiting for an excuse?
I don’t recognize myself anymore.
I look at what I’ve done, what I’ve let happen, and my chest tightens like I’ve crossed some invisible line I can’t uncross. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t wake up one day and decide I’d want two men, or that I’d want any man at all. It just… happened. Quietly. Gently. And that almost makes it worse.
Because if it had hurt from the start, maybe I would’ve stopped.
I keep telling myself I read too much into things. That I mistook touch for care, closeness for meaning. That I’m the only one stupid enough to feel something real in a situation that was never meant to be real.
And the worst part?
A part of me still wants to curl into that warmth and pretend none of this hurts at all…
I didn’t know when I started crying.
Anton had pulled me closer, his arm warm and solid around my shoulders, and that only made it worse.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, not even sure who I was apologizing to.
“For what?” Anton asked quietly.
“For being… like this.” My voice shook. “For thinking things that aren’t real.”
“Eli,” he said, slow and careful, like I might shatter if he said my name wrong. “You’re upset. That’s allowed.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head hard. “It’s not that. I just— I’m stupid. I read too much into everything. I let myself believe—” My throat closed. “I let myself believe you cared.”
Anton didn’t pull away. He didn’t correct me either. He just said, “I do care.”
I laughed, sharp and broken. “No. You care like people care about things they want. Not like— not like it matters.”
Before he could answer, the front door opened and heavy familiar footsteps approached.
Julian’s voice carried in, calm, tired. “I’m home.”
My body went stiff. My stomach twisted so hard I thought I’d throw up.
Julian walked into the living room and stopped when he saw us on the couch. His eyes flicked from my face to Anton’s arm around me.
“What happened?” he asked.
Anton didn’t hesitate. “The news.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Already?”
“They showed a picture,” Anton said. “Of you. Kissing someone.”
Julian exhaled slowly and looked straight at me. “Eli.”
I didn’t look back.
“It was a greeting,” he said. “Polite. Nothing more.”
I pressed my lips together so hard they hurt.
“Eli,” Julian said again, closer now. “Look at me.”
I didn’t want to. If I looked, I’d break my stupid heart all over again.
“Eli,” he repeated, firmer. “Talk to me.”
Something in me snapped.
“Why?” I burst out. “So you can explain how it doesn’t mean anything? Like this doesn’t mean anything either?” I gestured wildly between the three of us. “Because it sure meant something to me. That’s the problem. I’m the only idiot here.”
“That’s not true,” Anton said.
“Yes it is,” I shot back. “I’m the one who fell. I’m the one who thought— God, I thought you wanted me. Both of you. Like it was real.”
Julian sat down in front of me, close enough that his knees touched mine. “What you felt was real,” he said. “That doesn’t make you an idiot.”
I shook my head, tears spilling faster now. “No. It makes me disgusting.”
Anton stiffened. “Eli—”
“I turned into something I don’t recognize,” I sobbed. “I let myself be turned gay and nasty and I didn’t even fight it. I just— I just gave myself away. To not one man, but two. What kind of person does that?”
“Someone who wanted affection,” Julian said softly. “Someone who was overwhelmed.”
“I hate it,” I cried. “I hate that I liked it. I hate that I liked you touching me. I hate that I didn’t stop it. I hate that I let you take my first time like it meant something when it probably didn’t mean sh!t to either of you.”
Anton’s voice was low but sharp. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” I laughed through tears. “It’s true. We’re not even dating. I’m married on paper to one of you and sleeping with both. Being with a man is already weird enough for me and I didn’t even stop at one. I’m a fucking mess.”
Julian reached for my hands. I tried to pull away but he held them gently, not tight. “Eli. Listen to me.”
“I feel sick,” I whispered. “I feel dirty. Like I turned into a— into a faggot who can’t even respect himself.”
Both of them froze for what felt like too long...
Julian’s grip tightened just a little. Not angry, just grounding. “Do not talk about yourself like that.”
“That word doesn’t belong to you,” Anton added. “And it’s not what you are.”
“You don’t get it,” I cried. “I look at myself and I don’t know who I am anymore. I did this to myself. I walked into it. I didn’t even realize I was falling because it didn’t hurt.”
“That doesn’t make it wrong,” Julian said.
“It feels wrong,” I snapped. “It feels sinful. Like I stepped onto a path I shouldn’t be on and now I can’t go back.”
Anton leaned closer. “Eli. Look at me.”
I didn’t want to, but I did.
“You are not broken,” he said. “You are not dirty. You are not a faggot.”
Julian nodded. “And you are not worthless. Not to me.”
I shook my head weakly. “Then why did it feel so easy to replace me on that screen? I'm not exactly jealous but that's you, you're okay and can easily get anyone. You are not gay but you turned me into one. How would I ever be able to pick myself up if you drop me?”
Julian’s voice didn’t rise. “That picture didn’t mean what you think it meant.”
“But it still hurt,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
The room went quiet. My breathing was loud and ugly.
Anton pulled me into his chest. Julian wrapped his arms around me too, warm and steady, like they were holding something fragile instead of something shameful.
“Feelings aren’t crimes,” Anton murmured. “Desire isn’t a sin.”
“I still feel like it is,” I whispered. “Like this will kill me eventually.”
Julian pressed his forehead to mine. “We’re not here to ruin you,” he said. “We’re here to keep you safe.”
I closed my eyes, exhausted, still aching with guilt even as their words finally slipped through the noise in my head.
I wanted to believe them.
I really did.
But somewhere deep inside, the shame still sat heavy, whispering that I’d gone too far and there was no clean