Callum was already halfway to his car when he heard Micah call his name.
"Callum! Wait!"
But Callum didn't stop. He kept walking, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders tense. It had been a long day—no, a long year—and he didn't want to face Micah anymore. Not after the quiet comfort they'd shared while finishing Micah's game together. Not after feeling Micah's steady breaths as he slept against him. Not after the picnic, and certainly not after Callum had blurted out those three words in the middle of a crowded club.
'What was I even thinking?'
Callum cursed himself as he strode through the parking lot. Blurting out "I love you" like that—how crass. How unromantic. He should've waited. He should've found a better moment, a quieter one, somewhere just for them. Somewhere Damian wouldn't be lurking like a shadow.
"Callum, please!"
Micah's voice cut through his thoughts again, sharper this time, more desperate. Callum hesitated, his steps faltering. Before he could decide whether to keep walking, Micah grabbed his arm and spun him around.
Callum's breath caught.
Micah's face was streaked with tears, his green eyes glistening under the dim parking lot lights. The sight of him—broken, vulnerable—shattered Callum's resolve. All his hurt and broken pride evaporated in an instant, replaced by a surge of worry and self-loathing.
"Oh, Micah," Callum murmured, cupping Micah's cheeks in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Micah opened his mouth to speak, "You didn't—" But, before he could finish, Callum kept going, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"You've been going through so much, and there's so much more I can't tell you. It wasn't right to spring that on you like that. To ask you to leave Damian. Sure, he's an ass, but he's your ass. You love him. I'm not going to apologize for asking you to leave him, but I understand that you and he are a couple. I should've respected that and at least waited until—"
Micah cut him off with a kiss.
Callum's world imploded.
Micah's lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of mint and wine, with a sweetness that was uniquely him. Callum froze for a heartbeat, stunned, before desperation took over. He kissed Micah back with a fervor that surprised even himself, his hands sliding to the back of Micah's neck to pull him closer.
Callum angled Micah's head, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing against Micah's bottom lip. Micah sighed into his mouth, and Callum took the opportunity to explore further, savoring the taste of him, committing every detail to memory.
It felt nothing like kissing Ashur. It felt like sparks and fireworks, like something new and explosive.
Then, abruptly, Micah pulled away.
Callum's eyes fluttered open, and he found Micah staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. Callum was sure he wore the same stunned expression. Micah's hands trembled as he touched his lips, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Callum could see the conflict in his eyes—the way they darted to the club entrance, as if expecting Damian to appear at any moment. There was guilt there, too, mingling with something softer, something that made Callum's chest ache.
He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chasing the lingering taste of Micah.
"Uh…" Callum started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I assume you kissed me to shut me up."
Micah laughed, but it was a humorless sound. "I kissed you because I wanted to. Shutting you up was an added bonus."
Callum's head spun. Micah wanted to kiss him? Him? So Micah wanted this. He wanted him. But the fear of what it meant, of what Damian might do, was written all over his face.
Callum cleared his throat. "I thought you were crying because I hurt you," he said, his voice softer now.
Micah started to respond, "I wasn't cry—"
Callum cut him off.
"Damn near, Micah," he said, tilting Micah's chin up to meet his gaze. "Your eyes are wet. Your cheeks are streaked with tears. What happened?"
His hands shook as he cupped Micah's face again, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. His chest tightened, a sharp, almost painful ache that made it hard to breathe. It felt like every time he saw Micah, he was like this— broken, vulnerable, and so damn sad. Like he was holding all the hurt in the world in those frail bones of his.
When Micah kissed him, Callum's world had narrowed to the feel of his lips, the warmth of his body, the way his breath hitched when Callum deepened the kiss.
Now, he just wanted to know what was wrong so he could fix it.
Micah didn't answer the question. Instead, he bit his lower lip, his eyes searching Callum's. "Did you really mean what you said? That you love me?"
Callum's heart clenched. "Did you really mean what you said? That you wanted to kiss me?"
Micah laughed again and, as if it was even possible, it sounded sadder than his first laugh did. Still his shoulders shook so hard that, for a moment, Callum thought he might collapse. Then, as if the laughter had been a dam holding back a flood, Micah's face crumpled, and he began to sob.
Callum moved toward him instinctively, but Micah held up a hand, stepping back to keep him at bay.
"What are we even doing here, Callum?" Micah asked, his voice breaking. "Two different lifetimes, and I still don't know what I can do to keep you."
"You'll always have me," Callum said fiercely.
Micah raised an eyebrow, his tears glistening in the dim light. "Even if I have Damian?"
Callum's stomach dropped. There was something deeper here, something Micah wasn't saying. And if Callum wasn't the reason Micah was crying…
"Damian," Callum growled, his hands curling into fists. "What the hell did he do to you?"
Micah's breath hitched, fresh tears filling his eyes. "He loves me. He really does."
Callum's jaw tightened.
"But sometimes," Micah added softly, "he scares me."
That was all Callum needed to hear.
He turned on his heel and marched back toward the club, his blood boiling. Micah called after him, but Callum barely registered the words. His focus was singular: Damian.
Inside the club, the music pulsed louder, the bass reverberating through Callum's chest. He scanned the crowd, his eyes narrowing when he spotted Damian on the dance floor.
Damian was moving to the beat, his smirk firmly in place as he caught sight of Callum approaching.
"Callum!" Damian called, his voice dripping with mock cheer. "Thank you for rejoining us!"
Callum didn't bother with words. He grabbed Damian by the collar of his shirt, yanking him close. "I'm going to kill you," he snarled.
Damian laughed but the malice in his eyes was evident. "Wouldn't be the first time, Cael."
Callum's head started pounding as if the headache was triggered by the flip of a switch. His heart pounded in his chest, so loudly that the fact that he couldn't hear it over the music was a miracle.
Callum's hands tightened on Damian's shirt. His mouth spoke four simple, angry words; "What does that mean?"
Damian's smirk widened by a quarter of an inch, "Do you need the short answer or a PowerPoint presentation? I can have my secretary set it up. It'll be fun."
Callum's muscles strained as he lifted Damian off the ground.
The music screeched to a halt, the bass cutting out abruptly as the DJ fumbled with the controls. Around them, the crowd froze, their laughter and chatter replaced by gasps and murmurs. Callum barely registered the chaos. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw phones being raised, flashes going off, and heard someone shout, "Holy shit! Bar fight!"
"Wasn't that the guy in the news?"
More screams and shocked shouts surrounded them as other club goers began to notice the two men. He didn't care. Let them film. Let them talk. All that mattered was wiping that grin off Damian's face.
"I've never liked your smug smirk, you bastard," he spat. "It'll give me no small joy to wipe it off your face."
"Callum! Stop!" Micah yelled. Callum barely registered it.
Damian raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never wavering. "If we're going to squabble, we can set a time. But not here, not on the dance floor."
An appropriate response would have been 'No one in this decade uses the word 'squabble.'' But Callum was fresh out of appropriate responses and he was completely fed up with Damian.
His fist connected with Damian's jaw before the DJ could switch songs.