CHAPTER 98

CHAPTER 98
POV: Ethan
The apartment had never felt this empty. Dominic’s suitcase was gone, his side of the closet half-bare, the faint smell of his cologne already fading from the hallway. 
He’d left that morning for a three-day business trip, and since then, the silence had only grown louder like the walls were waiting for someone to fill them again.
Ethan tried to keep busy. He’d cooked dinner and left it untouched. Washed dishes that weren’t dirty. Read the same paragraph of a book four times. Nothing helped.
Every sound the hum of the refrigerator, the distant buzz of rain on the windows only reminded him of what wasn’t there.
Dominic would have texted by now, once upon a time. A photo from the airport, a half-hearted joke about hating hotel beds. But lately, even his messages had become mechanical. 
Don’t forget to lock up. Make sure the report’s ready. Good night. Not I miss you.
Ethan turned his phone over on the table, screen facedown. He didn’t want to see the emptiness confirmed by silence.
He walked to the window instead, watching the city lights blur in the drizzle. Somewhere below, he could hear traffic and laughter, proof that the world was still moving, even if his hadn’t for weeks.
That was when he noticed the faint glow from the opposite end of the hall, Tyler’s office. The light spilled under the door, steady, constant. He hesitated.
He didn’t know what he wanted to say anymore. He just knew he couldn’t sit here doing nothing, trapped inside thoughts that wouldn’t stop circling.
Before he could second-guess himself, he was already walking down the hall. Tyler looked up when the door opened, surprise flickering across his face. He’d been sitting behind the desk, papers scattered, a half-empty glass beside him.
 He looked tired but then again, Tyler always looked like he’d already seen the worst of people and found a way to live with it.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his tone even.
Ethan shook his head. “You’re working late.”
Tyler leaned back in his chair. “You’re avoiding something.”
“That obvious?”
“Always,” Tyler said softly.
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know why I came here.”
“Yes, you do.”
The words landed heavier than they should have. Ethan met his gaze that steady, unreadable stare and for a second, the air between them shifted.
“I came to end this,” Ethan said. “Whatever this is.”
Tyler’s lips curved faintly. “And what is it?”
“Exactly the problem,” Ethan said, sharper than he intended. “You push and push until I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”
Tyler rose slowly from the chair, closing the distance by half. “I didn’t make you lose yourself, Ethan. You just finally stopped pretending.”
“Don’t do that,” Ethan said, voice rising. “Don’t twist this into something noble.”
“I’m not,” Tyler said quietly. “I’m telling you what I see.”
Ethan laughed under his breath, short, bitter. “You don’t see me. You see cracks. You see weakness.”
“I see someone trying too hard to be perfect,” Tyler said, stepping closer. “And breaking because of it.”
“Dominic loves me,” Ethan said, as if saying it aloud would make it true enough to touch.
Tyler’s expression didn’t change. “Then why are you here?”
The question hit him like a slap. Ethan looked away, his throat tightening.
“Because I wanted it to stop,” he said, but it came out wrong — not a confession, not quite a lie. “Because I thought if I said it out loud, maybe I could make it stop.”
Tyler took another step. The air felt thinner now, their shadows merging against the far wall.
“You can’t fix what you won’t admit is broken,” Tyler said.
Ethan’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t get to talk about fixing anything. You like watching people come apart.”
“Maybe,” Tyler murmured. “But you came here anyway.”
“I hate that you make me feel…” Ethan stopped, words catching. “ like everything is my fault.”
“I don’t make you feel that,” Tyler said. “Dominic does.”
Ethan turned on him, angry now. “Don’t you dare.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong,” Tyler said, his voice low but steady. “Tell me you don’t feel invisible when he looks through you.”
Ethan’s silence said everything.
Tyler sighed, softer now, the fight draining out of him. “You keep trying to hold the world together for him. Maybe it’s time someone held you.”
Ethan’s breath caught. The words shouldn’t have meant anything, they were just another one of Tyler’s tricks, perfectly measured. But tonight, in the emptiness, they felt too close to the truth.
“Don’t,” Ethan whispered.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do this again.”
Tyler didn’t move. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You are,” Ethan said. “You always are.”
He wanted to leave. He should have left. But instead he stayed there, caught in the pull of something he didn’t understand. 
The storm outside deepened, thunder rolling through the building. The faint flicker of lightning illuminated the space between them, the inches that felt like miles.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Ethan said, almost to himself.
Tyler’s voice was quiet, almost kind. “Then go.” Ethan didn’t.
He looked at Tyler, at the exhaustion behind the arrogance, the flicker of loneliness he always hid behind a smirk. For a moment, it wasn’t about manipulation or anger or anything that made sense. It was just two people who didn’t know how to stop hurting each other.
“I came to end this,” Ethan said again, but it sounded like a plea now. “I can’t keep doing this.”
Tyler nodded slowly. “Then say what you need to say.”
Ethan tried. The words stuck in his throat.
All he could manage was, “I hate that I understand you.”
Tyler’s eyes softened. “That makes two of us.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d avoided, everything that waited just past the edge of reason.
Outside, another crack of thunder shook the windows.
Inside, Ethan took a step back, then forward again trapped between leaving and staying, between what was right and what felt too human to deny.
The air shifted. The door clicked softly as it closed and in that sound, Ethan knew that nothing would ever be the same again.