David sat alone in the dimly lit room, his head bowed, lost in thought. His chest felt heavy. No matter what he did, Mark still kept his distance.
"I've spoken kindly, waited patiently, and offered silent gestures of care. I had watched over Mark, protected him, and given him space. Still, nothing had changed. Why won't he love me and want sex only?
His heart was heavy, weighed down by the one question he couldn't escape: What more could he do?
He exhaled a shaky breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The ache in his chest throbbed like a wound that wouldn't close.
Then came soft footsteps behind him—measured, deliberate.
Tony walked over, pausing by the couch before slowly lowering himself to sit beside David. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at him.
"You look troubled," Tony finally said, his voice calm and gentle.
David forced a weak smile and shook his head. "It's nothing."
Tony's eyes narrowed slightly, not buying it. "Let me guess," he said. "This is about Mark, isn't it?"
David closed his eyes. The wall he'd tried so hard to hold up cracked, and the truth came spilling out.
"I've tried so hard, Tony," he said quietly. "I'm doing everything I can. I try to be gentle, to show him I've changed. I don't force him. I don't even touch him. I wait. But still… he doesn't love me. Not even a little."
He looked down at his hands, voice trembling. "He doesn't even see me."
Tony stayed quiet for a beat, then placed a steady hand on David's shoulder.
"Maybe," he said softly, "it's not about doing more or being perfect for him. Maybe… he needs to see the real you. Not the version you're trying so hard to be."
David looked up slowly, eyes full of quiet desperation. "What do you mean?
Tony hesitated. There was something in his expression—like he was holding back something important.
"I want to tell you something," he said, "but I wasn't sure you'd be ready to hear it. And I didn't want to overstep."
David turned fully toward him, voice firm with sincerity. "Tony, I'll listen. Whatever it takes. If you know something that could help, I want to hear it."
Tony studied him for a moment longer, then nodded.
"You promised, right? That you follow what I said if it would help?"
"Yes," I meant it."
"Then here it is," Tony said. His voice grew quieter, but more intense. "You need to break your promise."
David blinked. "What promise?"
"The one you made to yourself. That you wouldn't touch him—not until he loved you."
David stiffened. "That promise is the only thing keeping me from hurting him. I made it so I wouldn't take advantage." You know me too well.
Tony nodded slowly. "I know. And I respect that. But, David, he wants you. You said it yourself, He's just angry and confused because you keep denying him something he already craves. That tension—it's building. And instead of drawing you closer, you are pushing him away."
David stared at him in disbelief. "You're saying... we should sleep together?"
Tony's gaze didn't waver. "No. I'm saying you should let the tension between you break. If it leads to that, let it happen. Don't force it. But stop holding back every time he gets close. Let him feel it. Let him see you."
David sat in silence, trying to process it.
"You think this will fix it?" he asked quietly. Maybe.
That's the first step," Tony replied. "he might not love you right away, but it will change how he sees you. It will soften the distance between both of you.
David looked down again, conflicted. His hands tightened on his knees.
"I don't know if I'm okay with that," he whispered. "I swore I'd wait. I didn't want to become the man in the past.
Tony gave a small nod. "That's fair. But you're not that man anymore. You care now. You're thinking of his feelings. That's what makes the difference."
David closed his eyes, a storm raging inside him. "I'll think about it," he said finally. "And I'll give you my answer."
"Make sure it's an answer you can live with," Tony said. "Because once you open that door, you can't close it again."
It was late at night. Rain fell endlessly, turning the world outside into a blur of shadows and glassy streaks.
The sky was heavy, the air sharp and unforgiving, cold enough to slip through windows and settle deep inside the bones.
It was the kind of night meant for lovers.
For tangled limbs under blankets.
For whispered confessions in the dark.
David moved silently up the stairs, his footsteps soft against the wooden steps. He wasn't planning to stay long. Just a quick check on Mark. One glance to ease the ache in his chest, then back to the emptiness of his own bed.
But something pulled at him.
A thought of feeling. An instinct he couldn't name. He reached Mark's door and opened it without knocking.
What he saw made him stop in his tracks.
Mark was curled up tightly on the bed, swaddled in a thick duvet, but still trembling. His skin looked pale under the dim light. His lips were pressed together, but his hands—bare and stiff—were shaking slightly over the blanket.
The room was freezing. No warmth, comfort. Just cold air and a silence that cut like a blade.
The moment Mark saw David, he didn't hesitate. He got up quickly, almost stumbling, and rushed into David's arms. He clung to him with desperate urgency.
"I'm so cold," Mark whispered, his voice breaking. "Even the duvet's not helping…"
He tightened his arms around David, and to David's surprise, tears began to slip down his cheeks.
David froze, guilt washing over him like the rain outside. "Why are you crying?" he asked gently.
Mark didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled back slightly and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry," he said in a hushed voice. "I didn't mean to get too close."
Mark looked up at him again, trying to smile. "I know you are going to bed, right? Just came to check on me before you sleep?"
David could've said yes. That was the truth.
But instead, he looked into those damp, tired eyes and shook his head slowly.
"No," he said quietly. "I came to spend the night here with you."
Wait. What?
What happened next?