Ryan moved from one meeting to the next like a machine.
Boardroom. Safe house. Underground conference rooms that smelled like metal and old secrets. Faces blurred. Voices became noise. He listened, responded, decided—with a calm that unsettled everyone around him.
Nonchalant.
Cold.
Efficient.
Exactly what they needed him to be.
Exactly what he told himself he wanted.
Yet somehow, Kia was everywhere.
A chair pulled out too gently reminded him of the way Kia used to wait. A cup of coffee placed at his right instead of his left made his fingers twitch before he could stop himself.
Wrong side.
Everywhere he went, something was wrong.
He sat through a briefing, eyes on the screen, mind elsewhere. Someone was talking—routes, threats, timelines—but Ryan only half-registered it.
Kia would hate this place, a traitorous thought surfaced. Too dark. Too closed in.
Ryan clenched his jaw.
He didn't want softness.
He wanted control.
Another meeting ended. Another decision signed. Another life moved on a board he refused to name as such.
"Any objections?" someone asked.
"No," Ryan replied calmly.
Inside, something screamed.
He told himself again—I have to be a monster.
Monsters didn't hesitate.
Monsters didn't miss the warmth of someone leaning close just to exist beside them.
Monsters didn't wait for calls that would never come.
Except—
Ryan's phone buzzed.
His heart jumped before his mind caught up.
He checked the screen too fast.
Not Kia.
He locked the phone and slid it back onto the table, fingers stiff.
Just once, he thought.
Just one call.
He wouldn't beg. Wouldn't apologize. Wouldn't ask for anything.
Just to hear him.
The thought settled, dangerous and persistent.
By the time he reached his office again, the city outside was glowing. He stood by the window, phone in hand, staring at Kia's name like it might break first if he waited long enough.
He didn't call.
But he didn't put the phone down either.
Low-key, painfully, he expected it.
Expected Kia to call and say something simple. Something safe.
Are you okay?
Ryan exhaled slowly.
"Don't," he murmured to himself.
If he let Kia back in—even for a second—everything he'd built would crack.
And yet, his body remembered.
The way Kia's presence steadied him. The way the chaos quieted just by being near him.
That longing gnawed at him now, sharp and relentless.
It was driving him insane.
Across the city—
Kia stared at his own phone.
He'd picked it up and set it down more times than he could count.
Every instinct urged him to call. To check. To reassure. To exist in Ryan's world again.
But he didn't.
He remembered Ryan's voice. Flat. Controlled.
This doesn't mean anything.
So Kia stayed still.
Because space wasn't absence.
It was restraint.
And if loving Ryan meant holding back until it hurt—
Then Kia would endure it.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and turned away, jaw tight.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But they were circling the same breaking point.
One call away.