The bathroom at The Spot was mercifully empty when Korn pushed through the door, the heavy bass from the club reduced to a muffled thump through the walls. He leaned against the sink, gripping the cool porcelain as he tried to process everything that had just happened. Mark was here. With her. Looking happy and comfortable in a way he'd never looked with Korn, even in their most private moments.
Why now? That was the question burning in Korn's chest. Mark had been at the club for what, an hour? Two? He'd seen Korn dancing with Tay, had watched him laughing and having fun, and only now decided he needed to talk? Not when Korn was sitting alone at the bar. Not when he first walked in. Only after seeing Korn with someone else.
It was so typical of Mark – only wanting something when he thought he might lose it. How many times had Korn sat by his phone, hoping for a text, a call, any sign that Mark was thinking about him? But the moment Korn stopped waiting, stopped being available, suddenly Mark had things to say.
And what could he possibly want to say anyway? Sorry for bringing his not-girlfriend to the same club where his secret boyfriend was supposed to be? Sorry for looking so comfortable with her tucked under his arm, like that's where she belonged? Sorry for three months of making Korn feel like he was asking for too much just by wanting to exist in Mark's life?
Korn stared at his reflection in the dingy mirror. His face looked pale under the harsh fluorescent lights, and he could see the hurt in his own eyes that he'd been trying so hard to hide. Even from himself.
He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash away the sting of seeing Mark with someone else. The water was shockingly cold against his heated skin. He stood there with his eyes closed, hands covering his face, letting the water drip between his fingers as he tried to pull himself together.
The door swung open behind him.
"Korn."
His body stiffened at the sound of Mark's voice. Of course Mark had followed him. Of course he couldn't even have five minutes to collect himself without Mark making it all about himself. Forget the fact that Korn might be hurt or heartbroken - fuck his feelings, right?
"Go away, Mark." Korn didn't turn around. He couldn't look at Mark right now, not when his emotions were so close to the surface.
"We need to talk."
"No, we don't." Korn finally turned to face him, and the words came out sharper than he'd intended. "You made your choice. She's beautiful, by the way. Congratulations."
Mark's face crumpled slightly. "It's not what you think."
"Really? Because what I think is that you've been stringing me along for three months while you figured out what you actually wanted. And apparently, what you wanted was someone you could be seen with in public."
"That's not fair."
Korn laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Fair? You want to talk about fair? You cancelled our date tonight. Our date, Mark. To be here with her. And now you want to follow me into a bathroom to explain why that's somehow not what it looks like?"
Mark stepped closer, and Korn could see something desperate in his eyes. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under. My family, my friends... it's complicated."
"Everything is complicated with you." Korn backed up until he hit the wall. "I'm tired of being your complication, Mark. I'm tired of being your secret. I'm tired of making myself smaller so you can feel comfortable about whatever this is between us."
"So how about I just uncomplicate things for you?"
"Don't say that." Mark's voice was getting louder now, more intense. "You know you mean more to me than that."
"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like I mean exactly as much as you've shown me I mean. Which is nothing when it matters."
Mark grabbed his arm. "You're being dramatic."
"Let go of me."
"Not until you listen to me. Not until you understand that—"
"He said let go."
Both of them turned toward the door. Prem stood there, tall and commanding even in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. His expensive clothes looked out of place in the shabby club restroom, but his presence filled the space entirely.
Mark's grip on Korn's arm tightened. "This is a private conversation."
Prem smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Doesn't look very private from where I'm standing. Looks like someone who can't take no for an answer."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I know enough." Prem stepped further into the bathroom, and Korn noticed how he positioned himself between Mark and the door. "I know that when someone says let go, you let go."
"And who the hell are you to tell me anything about my relationship?"
"Your relationship?" Prem's eyebrows rose. "Is that what you call parading around with another girl while cornering your ex in a bathroom?"
Mark's face flushed red. "You don't know anything about us."
"I know he deserves better than this."
Korn found his voice. "Stop. Both of you. I don't need either of you to speak for me."
But neither Mark nor Prem seemed to hear him. They were staring at each other like predators sizing up their competition, and Korn suddenly felt like prey caught between them.
"You need to leave," Mark said to Prem, his voice low and threatening.
"Actually, I think you're the one who needs to leave," Prem replied calmly. "Unless you want me to go get security and explain how you followed someone into a bathroom to harass them."
"Harass?" Mark's voice cracked. "I'm trying to have a conversation with my boyfriend."
"Ex-boyfriend," Prem corrected. "From what I could see out there, you've moved on. So maybe it's time to let him do the same."
The tension in the small space was suffocating. Korn could feel his heart racing, could see the way Mark's hands were clenched into fists, could sense something dangerous building in the air between the two men.
"Mark," Korn said quietly. "Please. Just go back to your date. Pretend you never saw me here."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because—" Mark looked at him with something raw and desperate in his eyes. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. Because seeing you with someone else made me realize what I was throwing away. Because I need you to give me another chance."
The words hung in the air like a confession and a plea rolled into one. For a moment, Korn felt his resolve waver. This was what he'd wanted to hear for months – that Mark cared, that Mark was scared of losing him, that Mark was willing to fight for them.
But then he remembered the canceled dates. The secrets. The girl tucked under Mark's arm like she belonged there.
"It's too late," Korn said softly.
"No, it's not. It can't be."
"It is." Prem stepped closer to Korn, close enough that Korn could smell his expensive cologne. "He's made his choice. You made yours. Time to live with the consequences."
Mark's expression darkened. "This has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me now."
The possessiveness in Prem's voice should have been a warning sign. Should have made Korn step back and question why this stranger was inserting himself into Korn's personal drama. But all Korn could focus on was the way Prem stood between him and Mark's increasingly unstable energy, the way Prem's presence made him feel protected for the first time in months.
"Korn," Mark tried again, reaching around Prem. "Don't let him manipulate you. You don't even know him."
"I know enough," Korn said, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounded. "I know that he doesn't even know me and he put me before anything else. Can you say the same?"
It was a low blow, and they all knew it. Mark's face went white.
"That's not... I never meant to make you feel that way."
"But you did. Over and over again." Korn felt something break loose inside his chest, three months of swallowed hurt and disappointment finally finding its voice. "You made me feel like I was a burden. Like caring about you was something I should apologize for. Like wanting more than scraps of your attention was greedy."
"Korn..."
"No. You don't get to Korn me. Not anymore. Not when you spent three months showing me exactly how little I mattered to you."
Prem reached out his hand toward Korn. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
Korn slowly took it, the warmth of his touch surprising and comforting.
For a moment, Mark looked like he might try to physically stop them. His whole body was coiled with tension, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on their joined hands like it was a personal insult.
"This isn't over," Mark said quietly.
Prem's smile turned sharp. "Yes, it is."
As they moved toward the door, Mark grabbed Korn's wrist one more time. "You'll regret this. He's not who you think he is."
Korn pulled free. "Neither were you."
The words hit Mark like a physical blow. He stepped back, something broken and dangerous flickering across his features.
"We'll see about that," he said to Prem.
Prem didn't respond. He simply guided Korn out of the bathroom, his hand warm and steady on the small of Korn's back.
As the door swung shut behind them, Korn could hear Mark punch something – probably the wall – and the sound made him flinch.
"Are you okay?" Prem asked, his voice gentler than it had been in the bathroom.
Korn nodded, even though he wasn't sure it was true. Everything felt surreal, like he was watching someone else's life unfold around him.
"Thank you," he said. "For stepping in. You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did," Prem said simply. "No one should have to deal with that alone."
They were standing in the narrow hallway outside the bathrooms, the club's music washing over them in waves. Korn could see his friends at their table, watching the bathroom area, and he saw the signs of relief when he exited without Mark.
"Come on," Prem said softly. "Let me get you back to your friends."
They walked through the crowded club together, and Korn found himself following Prem's lead.
They were halfway to his friends' table when Prem suddenly stopped and turned to face him. The music pounded around them, but Prem's voice was clear when he spoke.
"I'm not sure what you went through with him," Prem said, his hand coming up to cup Korn's face, "but I hope from this moment on you'll let me show you what it feels like to be taken care of properly."
Before Korn could respond, Prem lifted his chin and kissed him right there in the middle of the dance floor, in front of everyone. It wasn't gentle or questioning - it was claiming, possessive, a statement made for every person in the club to see.
Korn's mind went blank. After months of hiding, of stolen moments and secret touches, someone was kissing him in public like he was worth claiming. Like he was worth the risk.
They broke apart when the sound of things crashing cut through the music. Chairs scraping, glass breaking, voices raised in alarm. Korn turned to see Mark's friends trying to restrain him as he struggled against their hold, his face twisted with rage.
"This is not over!" Mark's voice carried across the club, raw and furious. "You hear me? This is not fucking over!"
He broke free from his friends' grip and stormed toward the exit, shoving people out of his way. The crowd parted around him like he was dangerous, and maybe he was. At the entrance, he turned back one more time, his eyes finding Korn across the room.
"You'll see," he shouted. "You'll fucking see what he really is!"
Then he was gone, leaving Mint standing by their abandoned table, speechless and confused, while the entire club buzzed with the drama they'd just witnessed.
Prem's arm tightened around Korn's waist, pulling him closer.
"Don't worry about him," Prem said softly, his lips close to Korn's ear. "I'll take care of you now."
But as Korn looked around at all the staring faces, at his friends' shocked expressions, at the chaos Mark had left in his wake, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just traded one kind of cage for another.
The only question was which one would be harder to escape.