The ceiling was the same.
Stained in the upper-left corner, a small brown patch from the neighbor's leaking pipe. Aster stared at it for a long time, unable to move, unable to breathe.
Then he heard it.
The soft, rhythmic breathing next to him. Shallow. Familiar.
His heart stopped.
He turned his head slowly. Sheets creaked beneath him. And there—curled beside him in a bundle of secondhand blankets, hair matted, cheeks flushed with sleep—was Finn.
Alive.
Aster sat up too fast. The air was thick, his lungs wouldn't work properly, but he didn't care. He leaned over the small, warm body and pressed his trembling fingers against Finn's back. He felt it. The rise and fall.
Tears burned instantly. He muffled his sob with a hand, choking it down as not to wake him. His throat ached. He had dreamed of this—fantasized about this—for so long that it felt like a punishment. But the weight of the bedsheet, the cold air creeping through the broken window, the scent of child shampoo clinging to Finn's pillow...
It was all real.
And it was three years earlier.
Three years before the betrayal.
Three years before Finn's fever burned too hot and Aster had nothing left to give.
Three years before a quiet man in a dark coat sat beside his deathbed and whispered nothing at all.
Aster sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.
This time... I won't fuck it up.
It was morning when Finn stirred, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists and blinking up at him.
"'Bwother?"
Aster swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm here, baby."
The three-year old boy reached out sleepily. Aster pulled him into his lap, wrapping his arms around his tiny frame, breathing in the familiar scent of warmth and cereal crumbs and innocence.
"Yow' squeeshhing Finn~~" Finn mumbled into his chest.
"Sorry," Aster whispered. But he didn't let go.
They had just enough in the fridge for oatmeal and half a banana. Aster spoon-fed Finn while the boy's feet swung from the too-high stool, babbling about the spider he named "Charlie" in the windowsill.
Aster couldn't stop staring at him. Every blink, every laugh, every sassy scrunch of his nose—it all felt like a second chance too beautiful to deserve.
His phone buzzed.
He looked down at the cracked screen. The number was familiar.
Lianne.
His "white moonlight."
Not yet pregnant with someone else's child. Not yet pretending she loved him. Not yet calling him her savior while pocketing his last dime.
Aster didn't pick up.
He blocked her.
Then he went into his contacts and found Evan—his ex-manager, his ex-friend, and the one who was the mastermind in draining him dry.
Blocked.
Not this time.
That afternoon, Aster packed Finn into his tattered jacket and took the bus downtown. His fingers were shaking the entire ride.
He remembered the way it happened before. The day Adrian West approached him. The invitation. The proposition. And how Aster, in all his righteous pride and fear of the man's heated devouring gaze, turned him down and fled.
Now, standing outside WestMedia HQ, he could barely breathe.
He looked down at Finn, who held his hand tightly, eyes wide.
"'Da House ish so biiiiig, Browdar" Finn whispered.
Aster nodded. "Yeah, baby. Really big." So fucking big - he thought.
He walked through the revolving doors and up to the front desk.
"I'd like to leave a message for Mr. Adrian West," he said carefully.
The receptionist blinked, then tilted her head. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No," Aster said. "But tell him..." He swallowed. "Tell him Aster Colin is looking for him." He will meet me right?
There was a pause. A subtle shift in the woman's face. Then she smiled politely and gestured to a seat.
"Please wait here."
Aster breathe a sigh of relief
Ten minutes later, a sharply dressed assistant approached. "Mr. West is available now. Please follow me."
Aster lifted Finn onto his hip and followed.
They ascended forty-three floors in silence.
His palms were sweating.
The office was massive, quiet, full of sunlight and cold glass. But Aster only saw one thing: the man standing by the window.
Adrian West.
Still tall. Still composed. Still terrifyingly unreadable in his pristine black suit.
He turned, slowly.
And when his eyes landed on Aster, something flickered—barely there, too fast to name.
"You came," Adrian said, voice cool and deep.
Aster nodded once. "I changed my mind."
Adrian studied him. Then his gaze flicked to the boy in his arms. "This is him."
Aster adjusted his grip. "This is Finn."
Finn peeked over Aster's shoulder shyly. "You da boss?"
Adrian's expression didn't change, but his voice softened almost imperceptibly. "Something like that."
There was a long pause. Then Aster stepped forward and set Finn down.
"I'll sign the contract," he said quietly. "Whatever terms you want. I'll give you everything—just take care of him... and me..."
Adrian didn't answer right away.
Then, with a slow stride, he walked to his desk. Opened a drawer. Pulled out a thick folder with Aster's name already printed on the tab.
It had been waiting.
Aster's chest tightened.
Adrian didn't look up as he said, "I don't want just anything, Aster."
He opened the folder.
"I want everything."