CHAPTER 105

CHAPTER 105
POV: Dominic
The house has begun to whisper. Not loudly, not in ways anyone else would notice but Dominic hears it. In the creak of a chair that shouldn’t move, in the faint drag of footsteps across the hall, in the sound of a drawer closing a second too late.
It’s in the small things now. Always the small things. This morning, it’s the mugs.
He finds them side by side in the sink one chipped black, one plain white. Ethan’s and Tyler’s. He’s sure of it. They’re both half-rinsed, a ring of cold coffee clinging to the bottom of each.
Not unusual, not incriminating. But they’re together. Always together. He picks one up, Ethan’s and rinses it clean, his thumb tracing the small crack near the handle. 
He remembers buying it on a whim, years ago, because Ethan had laughed at the print that had faded long ago. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being funny.
The sound of a door opening breaks the stillness. Tyler steps into the kitchen, still barefoot, hair messy, eyes sharp and bright in that way that makes Dominic feel like he’s being watched even when he’s the one looking.
He moves without hesitation, straight to the coffee pot, straight to his mug, not even glancing up.
“Morning,” Dominic says evenly.
Tyler pours his coffee, voice flat. “Morning.”
The silence between them stretches long and deliberate. Dominic studies him, the way his hand rests casually on the counter, how relaxed he seems in this space that used to feel like theirs his and Ethan’s.
He’s too at home. Too comfortable.
And then there’s the mug the chipped black one. The one sitting beside Ethan’s last night. Dominic’s eyes flick to it just once. It’s enough. Tyler notices.
“Something wrong?” Tyler asks, not turning.
“No.”
But Dominic’s voice carries the weight of the lie.
Tyler hums, low and amused, and takes a sip from his cup. “You’re watching me like you’re trying to figure out a puzzle you already solved.”
Dominic’s lips tighten. “Maybe I am.”
Tyler finally looks up. Their eyes meet and hold. No flinching. No guilt. Just challenge.
It’s not a confrontation, not really. It’s quieter than that a silent exchange that says I know and I dare you to say it out loud.
Tyler smiles first. “You should relax. You’re starting to look like you don’t trust anyone.”
“Should I?” Dominic asks softly.
The smile fades, just slightly, before returning colder this time. “Trust is overrated.”
Dominic lets the silence answer for him.
When Ethan walks in a minute later, his hair still damp from the shower, the air shifts again. He freezes for half a second when he sees them not speaking, just standing too close, too still.
“Morning,” Ethan says quietly.
“Morning,” Tyler echoes.
Dominic says nothing. He just nods, picks up his briefcase, and leaves the room.
The day unfolds like a slow unraveling. Dominic works from home, but the numbers blur again, same as yesterday. Every noise drags his attention back to the surface, a door closing, the murmur of voices, a faint laugh that doesn’t sound like laughter.
He moves through the house, eyes catching on the details that used to mean nothing.
Ethan’s jacket, missing from the hook by the door. A faint smell of cologne that isn’t his. Tyler’s lighter left on the living room table, next to Ethan’s phone.
Little things. Ordinary things. Each one its own question mark.
By the time evening settles, Dominic feels like he’s walking through someone else’s home, one that looks like his, but isn’t.
He hears them in the kitchen again. Ethan’s voice is low, careful. Tyler’s is smooth, too calm. Every few seconds, there’s a pause the kind that means something’s being held back.
He doesn’t go in. He listens from the hall.
“…we can’t keep doing this,” Ethan says.
Tyler’s tone is unreadable. “Doing what?”
“Whatever this is.”
“Then stop.”
“You think it’s that simple?”
“Everything is,” Tyler says, and there’s a smile in his voice, a cruel one, maybe. “You just don’t like what happens after.”
The sound of a chair scraping. A soft breath. Then silence.
Dominic steps back before they can see him. His heart beats too loud in the quiet.
He tells himself he’s imagining it. That guilt is rewriting every sound, every look. But deep down, he knows he isn’t wrong. Because Tyler doesn’t flinch anymore. And Ethan doesn’t meet his eyes.
Later, when the lights are dim and the house has gone still, Dominic sits at the table again. His coffee’s gone cold. The rain taps against the window l, not heavy, just persistent, like it’s reminding him it’s still there.
He thinks about the first time Ethan brought Tyler home. How easily they’d laughed together. How Tyler had called him “Dom” with that careless charm that made everything sound like a joke.
Now it’s all knives. Every glance, every word. And somehow, Dominic’s the only one who bleeds.
He hears footsteps, Ethan’s hesitating near the kitchen. Dominic doesn’t look up.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Ethan asks softly.
Dominic shakes his head. “You?”
Ethan leans on the doorframe. “I tried.”
He’s wearing one of Dominic’s old hoodies, sleeves too long, collar stretched from being pulled too often. There’s a tiredness in his face that makes Dominic ache, even now.
“You’ve been quiet,” Ethan says.
“There’s not much to say.”
Ethan nods, looks down at his hands. “You think I’m lying to you.”
Dominic’s voice is low. “I think you’re not telling me something.”
Ethan closes his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
“Try me.”
For a second, Ethan almost looks like he might. His lips part, his chest rises with a half-formed confession but it never comes. He just exhales and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Ethan hesitates. “For making you doubt.”
Dominic studies him for a long moment. The words sound sincere, but they feel hollow like an apology meant to hold something else back.
He nods anyway. “Goodnight, Ethan.” Ethan leaves without another word.
After he’s gone, Dominic sits alone again, staring at the two mugs still sitting in the sink. He should wash them. He doesn’t.
He just looks at them and realizes it’s the same quiet arrangement he keeps finding everywhere now.
Two toothbrushes closer than they should be. Two jackets missing at once. Two voices that fall silent when he enters a room.
Tyler walks past the doorway then, stopping just long enough to meet Dominic’s eyes. The smirk is gone this time — replaced by something colder, steadier.
Neither of them speaks. And in that silence, Dominic understands, Tyler isn’t hiding anymore. He’s daring him to look. And the worst part isn’t the challenge itself, it’s how calm he feels meeting it.
Because the longer this quiet war goes on, the less sure Dominic is that he wants to win it.