Rylan (Late Night)
When the twins finally drifted off to sleep, Max stepped out of their room quietly, closing the door halfway.
"I go crash for the couch," Max whispered. "If you need anything, just call me."
Rylan nodded. "Thanks."
"Get some rest, man."
Max gave a small, tired smile before walking down the hallway and disappearing into the living room.
Rylan waited until he heard the soft thump of Max settling onto the sofa.
Only then did he retreat to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him.
The silence hit him first.
His room looked the same as always—organized, cold, simple.
A reflection of the man he had forced himself to become.
He sat on the edge of his own bed.
Alone.
As it had always been.
Max wasn't someone who shared beds, shared touches, or crossed lines. He was just a friend—a loyal one. The kind who helped with the kids, made jokes, kept him grounded, but never interfered.
This room—this bed—held only Rylan's memories.
His loneliness.
His cravings.
His ghosts.
And tonight… Kia's ghost felt stronger than ever.
Rylan leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling as he exhaled.
Seeing Kia today was like ripping open an old wound he had stitched shut with his own bare hands. For five years he had kept his distance, built walls, pretended that nothing could shake him.
But the moment Kia said his name…
Everything crumbled inside.
Not outside.
He would never let Kia see that weakness again.
But inside?
Inside he was drowning.
His body buzzed with that same dangerous, unwanted heat — the one that always came when he remembered Kia's touch, Kia's breath, the way Kia had once held him like he meant forever.
His fingers trembled slightly as he wiped his face.
"Not again," he muttered, frustrated. "I'm not that boy anymore."
He wasn't the one who cried in the dorm room.
He wasn't the one who waited for texts that never came.
He wasn't the one who begged Kia to choose him.
He had changed.
He had hardened.
He had survived.
He wasn't weak.
He wasn't needy.
He wasn't anyone's fragile heart to break.
But tonight…
his body betrayed him again.
Just like every night since Kia walked away from him.
His chest ached sharply—another memory:
"I can't fight for us, Rylan."
He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the trembling that threatened to break out.
"Why now?" he whispered. "Why are you coming back to fight now… when I already let everything go?"
Was there even anything left to fight for?
He didn't know.
Rylan dragged a hand through his hair, breathing unevenly.
He had built a new life.
He had children now.
He had responsibilities.
He wasn't the soft version of himself who needed protection.
He wasn't a saint…
but he wasn't a monster either.
He was simply a man who had learned to survive in the harshest way possible.
And Kia… Kia was the only person who could still make him crumble from the inside out.
Rylan pressed his fist against his mouth, trying to steady himself.
"God… why does it still feel like this?"
He hated it.
He hated how alive those memories still felt.
Hated how his body answered Kia's presence like a reflex.
Hated how five years of discipline cracked in seconds just from seeing him.
He closed his eyes, swallowing the heat, the ache, the longing.
But it didn't go away.
It never really went away.