CHAPTER 100

CHAPTER 100
POV: Tyler

The message came just after midnight. One line. No punctuation. No hesitation. You got what you wanted.

Tyler stared at the screen until the letters blurred into gray shapes. For a long time, he didn’t breathe. Then the air hit his lungs like a punch.

He knew what it meant. He didn’t need to ask. Dominic had seen. The apartment was too quiet, except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and Ethan’s uneven breathing from the couch. 

Tyler’s pulse kept time with the rain against the windows. The storm had finally slowed to drizzle, but the air still felt heavy, like the world hadn’t exhaled yet.

He set the phone face-down on the counter and leaned against it, palms flat.

It felt like gravity had tripled. Like the floor itself wanted to pull him under. This was supposed to feel like victory.

That was the deal he’d made with himself, wasn’t it? Get close enough to burn them both. Make Dominic feel what he’d made him feel small, invisible, replaceable. Make Ethan see that he wasn’t the saint he liked to pretend to be.

He’d told himself it was justice. Now it just felt like rot. Behind him, a soft rustle of Ethan shifting, sitting up. His voice was small, raw.

“Tyler… what’s wrong?”

Tyler didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. The words felt like glass in his throat.

“Dominic knows,” he said flatly. Silence.

Then, barely audible “What?”

Tyler turned the phone over and slid it across the counter. The message lit the screen like a wound. Ethan picked it up with shaking hands, his face draining of color.

“He saw us?” Ethan’s voice cracked on the last word.

Tyler nodded once. Ethan’s breath hitched. “Oh God.”

He started pacing one hand pressed to his mouth. Tyler watched him, feeling the same dull panic settle behind his ribs. But where Ethan’s fear moved outward, his own sank inward, heavy and quiet.

“He’ll never forgive me,” Ethan whispered. “I have to…I need to talk to him.”

Tyler swallowed. His voice came out lower than he meant. “Ethan, don’t.”

“I can fix this,” Ethan said, already reaching for his phone. “He just needs to understand…”

“Understand what?” The sharpness in Tyler’s voice startled even him. Ethan froze, turning slowly. Tyler’s eyes met his. “That it didn’t mean anything? That you were angry? Lonely? That I was just…” he broke off, jaw tightening. “convenient?”

Ethan flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” Tyler said quietly, “it’s not. None of this is.”

They stood there, the space between them shrinking and expanding in waves. The same space that had pulled them together now repelled them.

Ethan looked like he wanted to cry but refused to. “Tyler… I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

Tyler laughed once, not out of humor, but disbelief. “You think I did?” The question hung unanswered.

He could feel the exhaustion sinking into him, crawling up his spine, pressing into his skull. Every part of him wanted to disappear, to rewind, to erase that night from the map entirely. But reality doesn’t rewind, it  just replays in sharper focus.

Ethan spoke again, softer now. “Why did you start this? Why me?”

Tyler hesitated. A dozen answers clawed their way up, none of them clean. Because I hated him. Because I hated myself. Because you looked at me like I wasn’t broken yet.

He shrugged, voice low. “Because I wanted to see if I could.”

Ethan stared at him devastated, angry, maybe both. “So I was just a test.”

“No,” Tyler said, shaking his head, the word breaking halfway through. “That’s the problem. You weren’t.”

He turned away before Ethan could respond. The walls felt too close, the air too thin. He grabbed his jacket from the chair, his movements sharp and graceless. Ethan stepped toward him. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Tyler said. “Before I make this worse.”

“Tyler, wait…”

He stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back. “Don’t. Just… don’t.” For once, Ethan didn’t follow.

The hallway outside smelled like rain and steel. Tyler walked until his hands stopped shaking, until the cold started to bite through his jacket. 

The night was so quiet it almost hurt. Every sound, a passing car, the drip of water from a ledge felt amplified against the noise in his head.

He lit a cigarette with shaking fingers. He didn’t even smoke anymore. He just needed something to do with his hands. The first drag burned. He welcomed it.

He thought about Dominic,  the look that must’ve been on his face, the silence that followed. He imagined him standing there, watching, not saying a word. That image would follow him forever.

Tyler leaned against the wall, tipping his head back. The streetlight above flickered, throwing his shadow across the pavement. He’d always liked shadows; they never judged, never stayed long enough to remember.

He exhaled smoke and whispered to no one, “You got what you wanted.”

The words were meant for Dominic or himself. He wasn’t sure anymore.

A car passed, headlights cutting briefly through the rain. The glow caught on his face, and for a heartbeat he looked almost human tired, bruised, not cruel. Then it was gone.

He checked his phone again. The message still sat there, cold and final. No follow-up. No threat. Just truth.

He typed something,  I didn’t mean to….then deleted it. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound hollow?

He laughed quietly, the sound splintering into the night. “God, I really didn’t mean to.”

He thought back to that moment,  Ethan’s breath close, his eyes lost and searching. It hadn’t felt like revenge then. It had felt like falling and he hadn’t known how to stop. But that didn’t excuse it. None of it did.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, forcing the sting back. He didn’t deserve to cry. Not when he’d been the one to light the match.

Somewhere inside, he felt the weight of something break, not loudly, but cleanly. A fracture that wouldn’t heal right.

He tossed the cigarette into the puddle and watched the ember die. The rain started again, steady this time. He didn’t move.

For once, there was no plan, no manipulation, no script. Just the echo of everything he’d destroyed and the hollow ache that came after.

He whispered into the dark, voice trembling but true.

“For once, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Then he turned and walked away, the rain swallowing his footsteps, the night keeping its promise of silence.