Chapter 30 Pierce
PIERCE
I pace the length of my living room for the hundredth time today, my footsteps muffled by the charcoal rug that suddenly feels like it’s sucking the life out of everything it touches.
The monochrome perfection that once brought me peace now feels like a prison, all blacks, whites, and grays that mirror the emptiness inside me.
What’s the point of any of this without color? Without Thatcher’s color and chaotic energy filling the spaces between my ordered life?
The past month has been hell. Every day at work is an exercise in torture, watching him maintain the distance we agreed on, seeing his bright smile reserved for everyone but me.
We speak only about schedules and reports.
Our conversations are clipped and efficient and completely devoid of the warmth that once made every interaction feel electric.
I want to tell him he can move in here, quit his job, and let me take care of him while he pursues his art.
I have enough money that neither of us would ever need to work again.
But I know Thatcher well enough by now to understand that offering financial support would feel like charity to him, would wound his pride in ways that might never heal.
So I wait. And pace. And slowly lose my mind in this colorless apartment that feels more like a tomb with each passing day.
The doorbell rings, and my heart leaps. Maybe it’s Thatcher. Maybe he’s decided he can’t stand the distance any more than I can. Maybe we can steal a few moments, a few kisses, before reality intrudes again.
I practically run to the door, yanking it open with more enthusiasm than I’ve felt in weeks.
It’s Lior.
The disappointment hits me like a physical blow, and whatever composure I’ve been maintaining for the past month crumbles completely. My shoulders shake as tears I’ve been holding back for weeks finally break free.
“Pierce,” Lior says softly, concern evident in his voice. “Jesus, what’s happened to you?”
I can’t speak, can’t form words around the grief lodged in my throat. Lior steps inside, closing the door behind him, and guides me to the couch like I’m something fragile that might break entirely.
“We need to find a solution,” he says once I’ve gotten myself somewhat under control. “I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this.”
“I deserve this,” I manage, my voice rough and broken. “It’s the universe paying me back for all the bad things I’ve done. For how I treated you, for the years I wasted being selfish and cruel.”
“Pierce, no.” Lior’s voice is firm. “You’re a good man. You’ve more than made up for past mistakes. You deserve happiness, not this self-imposed suffering.”
“Do I?” The question comes out smaller than intended. “Sometimes I think this is just who I am. The man who destroys everything good in his life.”
“Is that really what you think? Because the Pierce I know. The man who turned on his family to help VSE grow beyond anything I imagined, who looks at Thatcher like he hung the stars? That man deserves love.”
The mention of Thatcher makes my chest tight all over again. “I never felt this way about you,” I admit quietly. “When we were together, I thought what we had was love, but it was nothing like this. This thing with Thatcher…it’s consuming me.”
“I know,” Lior says gently. “I’ve been there, remember?”
My eyes drift to the coffee table, where the stack of books I bought in New York sits untouched. Lior follows my gaze, his expression curious.
“Architecture books?” he asks, leaning forward to read the titles. “I didn’t know you were interested in architecture.”
“I’ve always been interested.” The admission feels strange after years of keeping this to myself. “I wanted to be an architect when I was a kid. Used to design impossible buildings with too many angles and not enough structural support.”
“What happened to that dream?”
“My father made it clear that my future was in the family business. So I buried it.” I pick up one of the books, running my fingers over the cover. “But when I was consulting for Drew and West on their foundation building…”
“You consulted for Starfinders?” Lior’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t know that.”
“I asked them to keep it quiet. But, Lior, I loved every minute of it. Redesigning that old hospital into something that could nurture kids’ dreams…? It felt like coming alive again.
“How did you even know what to do? You majored in business. We went to college together. I don’t remember you taking architecture classes.”
I’m quiet for a moment, debating whether to reveal this secret. “Do you remember the two years I spent in Europe after graduation? Before I started working for my father?”
“You said you were gaining international business experience.”
“I lied.” The words come out in a rush. “I went back to school in London. Did a whole architecture degree in two years. I was obsessed, took tons of courses every semester, midterm, summer, everything. I loved every single moment of it.”
Lior stares at me in shock. “You have a degree in architecture?”
“I do. But when I started at Dellcourt, I knew there was no future in it, so instead, I worked to become the businessman my father wanted.” I laugh, but it’s hollow. “And look at that, I didn’t even do that right.”
“Pierce.” Lior sits back, studying my face. “If you could have a clean slate on your life, no consequences, no expectations, what would you be?”
The question hangs in the air, loaded with possibilities I’ve never let myself consider.
“An architect,” I say without hesitation. “I’d design community buildings, spaces that bring people together. Schools, libraries, community centers. Places that matter.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“I…” I start to give him all the reasons—family expectations, financial obligations, professional reputation. But as I think about it, I realize none of them are real anymore. “I don’t know.”
“Pierce, the life you’ve chosen is making you miserable. You could put yourself first for once. Not Dellcourt, not VSE, not anyone else’s expectations. Just yourself.”
“It’s not that easy, Lior.”
He chuckles. “If we were having this conversation a year ago, I’d agree with you. Now? I think it’s exactly the right time to consider a change.”
I’m quiet for a long moment, the possibility taking root in my mind. “You’re saying I should leave VSE to become an architect,” I say slowly, testing the words.
“No, you are the one saying that. Tell me more.”
“I could design those community buildings I’ve always dreamed about.
Work on projects that actually matter to people’s lives.
” My voice grows stronger as the idea takes hold.
“Schools where kids feel inspired to learn, libraries that feel like sanctuaries, community centers that bring neighborhoods together.”
Lior nods, watching me.
“I’ve been thinking about it more since New York,” I continue, leaning forward with growing excitement.
“The way Thatcher talks about his art, the passion in his voice when he describes turning chaos into stories… I want that feeling. I want to wake up excited about what I’m building instead of just going through the motions. ”
“When’s the last time you felt that way about work?”
“The Starfinders project,” I say immediately. “When I was working with Drew and West, seeing that old hospital become something that could change kids’ lives… God, Lior, I felt more alive during those few weeks than I have in years.”
“Then why are you still sitting here?”
The question hits me like lightning. Why am I still here? What’s actually stopping me?
“I have the degree, I have the money, I have connections.” The words come faster now. “I could start my own firm, focus on community projects, work with nonprofits and local governments…”
“You’re getting that look,” Lior observes with amusement.
“What look?”
“The same look you had when you founded the LGBT business students club in college.” Lior’s smile turns nostalgic.
“You realized that not everyone came from money, that some students were struggling to afford textbooks while we were complaining about the quality of the cafeteria coffee. You threw yourself into creating support systems, mentorship programs, scholarship funds…”
The memory surfaces, warm and bittersweet. “I kept thinking about how I could have been one of those scholarship kids,” I admit. “If I hadn’t been adopted into money, if my birth mother had kept me… I might not have had the means to go to college at all.”
“I fell in love with that version of you.” Lior leans forward. “And I’m seeing it again right now. That same determination, that same belief that you can actually change something.”
I stand, unable to contain the energy coursing through me. “I could do this, couldn’t I? I could actually make this work.”
“Pierce, you can do anything you set your mind to. You always could.”
The possibility unfurls like a flower blooming in fast-forward. “I want to quit VSE,” I hear myself say, the words surprising even me with their certainty. “I want to leave and start over and build something that’s mine.”
Lior stands and wraps his arms around me. “I am so happy for you, my friend.”
“You’re not angry? I’m abandoning you—”
“You’re choosing happiness,” Lior interrupts. “I accept your resignation with one condition.”
“What?”
His grin is mischievous. “I get to be your best man at your wedding.”
I laugh despite everything, the sound rusty from disuse. “I don’t even know if Thatcher will have me back. It’s been so hard being around him that I’ve practically ignored his existence for the last month.”
“Then you need to convince him that he needs you as much as you need him.” Lior stands, his expression determined. “Go get him, Pierce. Stop waiting for the perfect moment and make your own moment.”
As he heads for the door, I call after him. “Lior?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything. For being a better friend than I deserve.”
“You deserve everything good, Pierce. Don’t forget that.”
After he leaves, I stand in my empty apartment, looking at the architecture books scattered across my coffee table. For the first time in months, the future doesn’t feel like a burden.
It feels like a possibility.
“Fuck, I’ve just quit my job,” I say aloud because I can’t believe this is happening.
Tomorrow, I’m going to tell the man I love that I can’t spend another day without him. Without being able to step outside and show the world that I’m his.
The thought terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure.
But for the first time in a month, I feel alive.