King had been drained from the long hours at work. The moment he got home, he tossed his bag onto the couch, stretched his sore back, and lay on the bed with a soft sigh. The room was quiet, the way he liked it after a stressful day. For a while, he simply closed his eyes, letting the weight of exhaustion pull him into a light nap.
Then his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He lazily reached for it and saw James' name flashing across the screen.
James: Do you feel like getting out for a bit? James asked, his voice smooth and teasing. "The city looks too pretty to ignore tonight."
King paused, then glanced at the empty staircase, the silence that stretched endlessly in Win's absence. "Sure," he said. "Pick me up at the gate."
Within fifteen minutes, James's sleek car purred at the curb outside. King slid into the passenger seat, the soft interior cocooning him as the city unfurled before them. They didn't have a destination in mind, just windows down, music low, wind threading through their hair as neon lights painted the night in ribbons of colour. King leaned into the moment, letting it ease the tightness in his chest.
Across the city, Win had just returned to his hotel suite after a long, packed day of meetings. He loosened his tie, sank into the leather couch, and reached for his phone. A small smile curved on his lips as he typed a message to King.
"Hey, I just wrapped up. How was your day?"
Minutes passed. No reply.
Frowning, Win sent another message.
Ten minutes. Still nothing.
His chest tightened.
Strange, he thought. King always replies. Even if it's just an emoji.
So he called.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still no response.
His brows furrowed. A sudden, cold feeling crept into his gut.
Earlier that night, as James and King were still out driving, James received a call from one of his friends.
"King, my guy just flew in from abroad. He's nearby, staying at a hotel around this area," James said, turning to King. "Mind if I drop by and say hi real quick?"
King shrugged. "Sure, I don't mind."
They parked in the hotel's lot. In his hurry, King left his phone in the car without realizing it. Inside, the hotel bar was softly lit and modern, filled with murmuring conversations and laughter echoing off marble floors.
As they entered, someone was just walking out.
Marcus.
One of Win's ex-friends. The same man who had taken a picture of King and James laughing on the rooftop terrace days earlier. Marcus paused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw them together again.
He raised his phone and snapped another photo. No flash. Just a clean, candid shot. King leaned in slightly as James laughed at something familiar.
Marcus forwarded the image to a friend with a message:
Twice now. Looks like King's got himself a boyfriend. Guess Win finally let someone else in.
He hovered over Win's name.
But he didn't send it.
Not yet.
Then he locked his phone and walked out, a sly grin forming on his lips.
When King and James returned to the car, King finally noticed the missed messages and missed calls. His heart sank.
10 missed calls. 6 messages.
All from Win.
His heart skipped a beat.
Shit.
James looked over. "Still want to drive around more?"
King shook his head quickly. "No... Please take me home."
After reaching home, King went straight into the bathroom. The warm water hit his skin, but it did little to ease the tight knot forming in his stomach, not just from guilt, but actual pain.
He dried off, changed into loose clothing, and finally picked up his phone to respond to Win.
> "Sorry... I just got your messages. I was so tired, fell asleep, and my phone was on silent."
It was a lie, but one he hoped would work.
Almost instantly, his phone rang. Win's voice came through the line, thick with worry.
"King, what happened? I've been calling and messaging for hours."
King swallowed. "Sorry. I was really tired… I didn't even realize my phone was on silent."
A pause.
Then Win exhaled. "You scared me. I'm just glad you're okay."
They spoke for a few more minutes. Win told him to rest, sleep early. He'd call again in the morning.
King ended the call and sat on the bed, staring into the dim corner of the room. His hands were trembling. He knew it, if Win found out about James... it would all blow up.
The next morning, Win ended his final business meeting earlier than expected. Though he had planned to rest an extra day, something in his heart refused peace. He kept thinking about King, about the silence, the lies, something felt wrong.
He left the city behind without delay, heading straight back home through the sky, as if distance alone could fix what was breaking.
Right before he stepped onto the plane, his phone buzzed. A message from a friend one that changed everything.
Win's jaw clenched the second he saw the name. They hadn't spoken in months.
Still, curiosity won. He opened it.
A photo loaded first. Then another.
King.
In the first, he was stepping into a hotel beside someone Win recognized instantly, James. King's posture was relaxed, his head tilted slightly toward the man like they were mid-laughter.
The second photo hit harder.
At the bar. King again, playful, casual, and too comfortable beside James. The kind of comfort Win had always thought belonged to him.
Back home, King's health took a sudden turn for the worse. The dull ache in his stomach intensified into sharp, relentless pain. He curled up on the couch, trying to breathe through it, refusing to admit how bad it was. At first, he ignored James' calls. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to explain.
But when the pain spiked again, stealing the air from his lungs, he finally picked up.
"Your voice…" James said immediately, his tone tight with concern. "Are you okay?"
King closed his eyes, voice barely a whisper. "My stomach hurts."
There was a pause. Then James' voice sharpened with urgency. "Do you want me to come get you? I can take you to the hospital."
"No," King said quickly. "I'm fine. I just need to rest."
"Can I bring you something? Painkillers? Medicine?"
"No, James." King's voice wavered, but he stayed firm. "Just… don't come. Please."
King hesitated. Win would lose it if James stepped inside the house.
But then he tried calling Charlotte.
No answer.
He sat for an hour, doubled in pain. Finally, he gave in.
He called James again, voice low and shaking.
"I need those meds…"
When James arrived, King's strength was gone. He collapsed onto the couch as James hurried to his side.
"I should take you to the hospital."
"No. I'm not going," King said, clutching his stomach.
So James stayed. He sat beside him, wiped the sweat from his brow, helped him drink water, and waited.
Late that night, Win's car pulled up opposite the gate.
He spotted the unfamiliar car outside.
Not King's… not his.
He didn't get out immediately. Instead, he waited, and then he saw it.
The front door opened.
James stepped out, patting King gently on the shoulder. "Get better soon," he said, pulling him into a side hug.
Win's heart stopped.
His hands curled into fists.
So it was true.
The pictures weren't fake.
He watched James walk down the steps, get in his car, and drive away.
Once the car disappeared, Win stepped out.
His chest burned with betrayal.
King was just about to climb the stairs when he heard the front door unlock.
He froze.
His eyes slowly turned toward the entrance.
Only Win and he had keys to the house, and Win wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow.
But there he was, standing in the doorway, coat still on, luggage by his side.
King looked at him, eyes unreadable.
"Why are you looking at me like you've seen a ghost?"
King opened his mouth, but no words came out. "Win... you're back?"
"Yes," Win replied coolly. "Earlier than planned."
King took a step forward but winced. The pain shot through him. He clutched his stomach and stumbled slightly.
Win's gaze dropped. "Oh? Poor you… I see he was not gentle with you."
King's breath caught. His face paled. He saw everything. Then his lips parted. "What… what do you mean?"
Win's voice dropped an octave. "Who just walked out of my house, King?"
King wished he could vanish. Right there.
Because the real storm had just begun.