Sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting the room in soft, golden hues. Jake stirred awake, eyes blinking slowly as he took in his surroundings—and the warm weight curled against his side.
Felix.
He felt a rush of affection, fingers gently carding through the younger man's hair.
*This* was his favorite part of waking up. Being able to hold Felix in his arms, feel him warm and solid and real beside him.
He leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of Felix's head—but stopped. Something was off.
Jake's brow furrowed, concern creeping into his expression. He reached out, gently shaking Felix's shoulder.
"Sweetheart."
Felix stirred, blearily opening his eyes. "Hn?" he mumbled, still half-asleep. "What time is it?"
Jake glanced over at the clock on the bedside table.
8:04am.
His eyes narrowed. "*Felix*."
Felix blinked, more alert now as he saw the hint of alarm in Jake's eyes. "What? What's wrong?"
Jake's hand snapped to Felix's wrist—gently but firm—pulling him closer as his gaze flickered over the younger man's face. "Your eyes," he said low, urgent. "They're… purple."
Felix blinked, confused at first—then realization hit like ice water.
*No. No no no.*
He bolted upright, scrambling out of bed with a panicked gasp. "I slept here?! I *slept* with *you*?!" His voice cracked under the weight of sudden terror—not of shame, but exposure.
Jake sat up slowly, watching him with quiet intensity. "And?"
Felix was already stumbling backward toward the bathroom, hands flying to his hair, his neck—the visible marks Jake had left last night now screaming their secret in dark bruises and swollen lips.
"People can't know!" he whispered frantically. "If someone sees me like this—if they know I'm—I'm—" He couldn't even say it: *yours.*
The word alone made his chest ache—but so did the thought of facing school looking like *this.* Like someone who'd been thoroughly claimed by an Alpha overnight without permission from society or discretion.
Jake stood then—calmly—and crossed the room in three long strides until he caught Felix by both arms just inside the bathroom doorway.
"Look at me," he said gently but firmly—and when Felix resisted, trembling beneath his touch—he repeated: "*Look at me.*"
Reluctantly… fearfully… Felix obeyed.
Jake searched his eyes—the deep violet pupils shimmering bright from last night's bond intensifying into something permanent now that dawn had broken and magic had sealed what love began in darkness—and spoke softly:
"You don't have to hide what we are."
"But I do!" Felix choked out before yanking away and darting for clothes strewn across the floor earlier during passion-fueled undressing. "You don't get it—I'm not famous! People will say things—they'll laugh—or worse—they'll use it against you—you can't afford some nobody tainting your image!"
His voice broke on *"nobody."*
Something dark flashed across Jake's face then—not anger—but pain.
Before he could respond…
Felix snatched up his shirt and jacket—one sleeve half-in—as if fleeing could undo how deeply connected they were now—
And ran for the door without looking back
Only one soft whisper slipping into air behind him
*"I'm sorry…"*
The penthouse fell silent again
Morning light painting empty sheets
A single mark still warm on pillow where head once lay
Downstairs—a bike kicked to life hastily outside garage door
Pedals pumping fast down city streets heartbeat drumming louder than wheels spinning pavement smoke rising fog dissolving distance growing between them fast too fast
But upstairs...
Jake didn't move right away
He only stared at closed door a long moment before lifting two fingers slowly to press against kiss-swollen lips still tasting faint trace skin saliva essence left behind only person ever make feel whole again after years cold fame hollow power meaningless until now
Then quietly... finally stepping forward...
He murmured one word—not loud enough for anyone else hear... just wind carrying promise forward unknown coming storm
"*Mine.*"
Jake's eyes remained fixed on the front door where Felix had vanished, the memory of his panicked whispers and trembling hands still fresh in his mind. He could *taste* the fear in Felix's voice—the desperation to prevent their love from being discovered.
Jake's fingers tightened into fists at his sides—a sudden surge of anger rising within him. Anger at the world that made Felix feel like he had something to hide; rage at himself for letting doubt and secrecy drive the younger man away.
He'd had enough.
Jake's mind raced, thoughts whirling and scattering in all directions. Where would Felix go? He couldn't have gotten far on foot... but then again, he was probably too scared to risk using public transportation or calling an Uber. There was a chance he'd gone to school... but that seemed unlikely, considering how panicked he'd been.
Jake's eyes darted from the door to his phone lying on the bedside table.
He picked it up and dialed one number with trembling fingers.
The phone rang once—twice—before a groggy voice answered on the other end.
"Jake? It's barely eight-thirty," came the annoyed drawl of his manager, Daniel. "This better be good."
"It is," Jake said flatly, already striding toward his walk-in closet. He yanked open the doors, scanning for something specific—something *practical*. "Cancel my afternoon press junket. I'm not doing interviews today."
Daniel let out an exasperated sigh. "You can't just cancel last minute! We've got journalists flying in from London—"
"I don't care." Jake's voice was steel now, colder than Daniel had ever heard it before. He pulled out a black zip-up jacket and tossed it onto the bed—one with high collars and no logo emblazoned across it for once—and began dressing quickly.
"This is about that boy, isn't it?" Daniel asked sharply.
A beat of silence.
Then: "*Yes.* And if you want me to keep showing up to sets looking like I haven't been dragged through hell every day this week—you'll leave him alone when I find him."
He hung up without another word.
In ten minutes flat—he was gone: keys in hand, bike helmet under his arm as he stormed through the penthouse exit like a storm breaking loose after days of tension held back too long
But first…
*The shoot.*
Warner Lot
9:17 AM
Cameras flashed on set as crew scrambled into position—the opening scene of *Eclipse Protocol*, Jake's new sci-fi thriller launching later that year, scheduled to start filming at precisely 9:30 AM.
Director Vance stepped forward with script in hand and frown firmly in place when he spotted Jake walking onto set ten minutes late—with shadows under his eyes but fire burning behind them.
"About damn time!" Vance snapped. "We've been waiting on your dramatic entrance all morni—"
Jake didn't stop walking until he stood directly in front of him—and then he did something no A-lister would ever dare do:
He looked into Vance's eyes—their reflections shimmering purple beneath stage lighting—and said two words charged with quiet authority:
"*Mind-wipe.*"
Vance froze instantly—the crew around them continuing their prep work unaware—as soft waves pulsed from Jake's irises outward like ripples across water
By morning wrap
No one remembered seeing Felix anywhere near set
No security footage existed outside penthouse garage
And even camera drones hovering nearby mysteriously malfunctioned during key hours between 8–10am
All traces erased by power hidden behind fame wrapped magic lived secrecy protected love fought for fiercely quietly always never letting go because once found couldn't afford lose again not even second thought worth risk world knowing truth heart already belonged soul promised bond written stars sealed dawn claiming night before forever tied names whispered wind only ears needed hear could understand meaning living fully finally free together despite odds consequences future unknown ahead waiting only certainty mattered clearly spoken single sentence breathed silently sky sky above where single motorcycle raced full speed toward school city edge driven determination fury devotion unstoppable force moving fast inevitable collision coming soon
**Forever Mine —and chasing what ran away**