Chapter 22
–––––
Kilian
On Thursday, my conversation with Dominic kept replaying in my mind—and only because he hadn’t given me a chance to properly explain myself to him.
It wasn’t easy, especially since I’d been so restless on Sunday morning after putting him to bed that I just jumped on my motorcycle and took off. If the police had pulled me over, I’d have lost my license for the third time. But I couldn’t help myself.
I didn’t want to wake Dominic. As drunk as he’d been, I couldn’t do that to him. I wanted him to sleep off his hangover in peace, without worrying about me.
While my closest colleagues were aware of my condition and accepted my occasional absences as part of my work arrangement, I still hadn’t come clean to the one person who, in the past few days, had occupied every fiber of my being and stolen his way into my heart.
In the past, I’d always been upfront about it. From the day I got my diagnosis, I knew I had to give people in my life a choice—whether they wanted to deal with me or not. I usually brought this up during our second or third meeting.
At work, it was different, but by now I’d proven that a structured daily routine gave me stability and helped me manage my phases better.
When I hit a low, like the one I experienced last week, the best way for me to handle it was to sleep it off. That way, I wouldn’t get any stupid ideas or annoy the people around me. Not everyone knew how to deal with it, and I didn’t expect them to.
It was sweet that Dominic had stayed with me—and somehow comforting. Especially because he hadn’t bombarded me with questions he already deserved answers to.
Maybe I couldn’t tell him the truth because I had the feeling he was also hiding something from me—something important he didn’t want me to know.
Nico probably knew.
And his therapist, of course.
And that andrologist too.
Urgh!
Sliding into a high on Saturday hadn’t helped matters either. I was still coming down from it and was looking forward to going to bed early tonight.
But I knew I owed Dominic an explanation. I had to catch him later and invite him out for a beer because it was long overdue for me to calmly explain everything to him.
Just thinking about it helped me refocus on my work.
While the actors rehearsed their scenes on stage, Theo was speaking to a journalist. They sat five rows behind me, discussing the new Hamlet. I tried to concentrate on my work and not get too distracted, but I couldn’t help eavesdrop with one ear.
The journalist wasn’t a stranger to me. Every few months, he would show up here and write an article that attracted new audiences. In that sense, he was a journalist who actually knew his craft. Still, I’d been avoiding him ever since he once cornered me and blatantly hit on me.
He wasn’t my type.
Not then, and certainly not now.
He’d bleached his brown hair so light it was nearly white, with a yellowish tint that was hard to miss. In the dim theater lighting, it wasn’t as obvious, but I’d caught a glimpse of it earlier when I stepped out of the control room and saw Theo greeting him in the lobby.
Not long ago, I found out that Alex knew this guy as well. That fact he vehemently refused to say anything about him had always struck me as odd. But Alex had worked for the same newspaper this guy wrote for, so he probably saw it as gossiping if he spilled any details.
Either way, I thought it was wise to steer clear of him.
“Tim,” I said into the walkie-talkie. “Can you check if Spotlight 57 is okay?”
“On it,” Tim replied.
On stage, the actors were rehearsing the fight between Hamlet and Laertes. Dominic looked great. He was already wearing the navy coat that our costume designer had picked out for him.
I wondered how much people had picked up on our behavior at the wedding. After all, Dominic and I had barely been able to keep our hands off each other.
“Spotlight 57 is broken,” Tim reported back over the walkie-talkie. “I’ll take it down later and bring it to Kurt in the workshop.”
“Thanks.”
Just then, Laertes struck, killing Hamlet. Dominic died a tragic stage death, and everyone in the hall held their breath—even that journalist behind me. When I saw the spotlight lingering on Laertes, I hissed into the walkie-talkie. “Goddammit, Bruno, light on Hamlet!”
The spotlight swung back to Dominic, who was taking his final breath and lay motionless.
There was no applause, but the actors seemed to count a few seconds before getting up and discussing the scene. Laertes wanted to run through the fight again, and Sebastian made a few adjustments to the set design.
“I’d like to have a quick word with Hamlet,” I heard the journalist say behind me. “Would that be possible?”
“Of course,” Theo replied, standing up. “Dominic! Can you come here for a minute?” he called over me, motioning for Dominic to meet him at the right edge of the stage. However, Theo sat back down and focused on his notes while the journalist thanked him and made his way forward.
Dominic stepped off the stage, clearly hesitating when he recognized the journalist. His body language said it all as he buried his thumbs in his back pockets—like he often did—before realizing he was wearing the tailcoat.
He awkwardly shook the journalist’s hand, rubbed his forearm, and forced a smile—though just moments ago, he’d been so confident as he “died” on stage.
Do they know each other?
I didn’t like that.
Especially not with this journalist.
The bleached-blond guy, however, seemed delighted to have run into Dominic here, gesturing wildly as he spoke.
Dominic’s tension gradually disappeared. His smile no longer looked forced, and he appeared more relaxed. The awkwardness vanished, and it almost seemed like two old friends had reunited.
I liked that even less.
The two of them spoke longer than I was comfortable with, and I felt a tightness in my chest.
When the guy even reached out and brushed Dominic’s arm affectionately, I stood up, grabbed the walkie-talkie—I had to have some excuse—and made my way toward the stage.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” I heard the journalist say. “But you don’t seem to be getting my messages.”
“Yeah … no … I have a new number,” Dominic said, brushing his hand across his mouth.
“I can give you mine, if you want. There’s something going down tomorrow night. You can just stop by if you feel like it.”
When I finally reached them, Dominic was in the middle of giving him the final digits of his phone number.
“Hey,” I said nonchalantly, though I was boiling inside.
Why the hell is he giving that slimeball his number?
I wanted nothing more than to wrap an arm around Dominic’s waist and pull him closer, just so this guy would know exactly who Dominic belonged to. But of course, I didn’t. Instead, I moved next to Dominic, making it clear—at least a little bit—where this journalist’s place was.
“Oh! Kilian da Silva, right?” he said as if he hadn’t noticed my maneuver. “How are you? It’s been ages!”
“Yeah,” I replied with a fake smile. “Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Livio!” he answered. “Livio Tanner.”
“Right. Sorry. It really has been a long time.”
“You two know each other?” Dominic asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes,” Livio said, with a glint in his eye that made me uneasy. “You just run into people sometimes.”
“And how exactly do you know each other?” I asked.
“Through a mutual friend,” Dominic jumped in too quickly.
Livio only smiled and gave him a mischievous wink.
No, he’s flirting with him. Seriously? What the hell is this?
“Okay, guys, I’ve got to run,” Livio said—thankfully. “But I’d love to see you again sometime.” His suggestive tone was clearly aimed at Dominic. “And feel free to bring your cutie here along if you want,” he added, this time winking at me.
I froze like a stone beside Dominic, my eyes glued to Livio—not watching, exactly, but making sure as he walked back to Theo to grab his things and said his goodbyes to the director. When he turned back one last time to wave at us, a cold shiver trickled down my spine.
Livio was a parasite, and I didn’t want Dominic anywhere near him.
“Has he already called you?” I asked bluntly.
Dominic frowned as he took out his phone. A missed call flashed on the screen.
“Delete his number,” I instructed.
Dominic brushed it off with a laugh and shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Forget about it.”
“Where do you know him from?” I pressed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Dominic turned to head back onstage, but I blocked his path.
“And I’m just supposed to forget it, huh?”
“You know him too.”
“Yeah, because every few months he drops in here to write a piece about the latest production,” I shot back, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “The guy looks more messed up every time. Like some drug addict or something. Where do you know him from?”
Something shifted in Dominic’s expression. He tilted his head like I’d just said the craziest thing imaginable.
I wasn’t sure if I had. My brain still felt a little foggy, and sometimes that meant I couldn’t control what came out of my mouth. But as off-base as Dominic’s look suggested I was, I didn’t think I’d said anything that wrong. He recoiled and curled his lip, as if he were disgusted with me.
I raised my brows and waited for him to answer.
“From parties,” he said irritably. “I know him from parties. Happy now?”
Now I was the one grimacing. That wasn’t much of an answer. “I don’t want you hanging out with that guy. He’s no good. That guy’s toxic, and the way you’re acting right now proves it. God, Dominic. I’m not blind.”
“Are you insane?” Dominic’s voice was a low, threatening growl. “Why should I take orders from you?”
“Don’t call me insane,” I growled back, shoving the anger back down. “And it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done what I said. So, what do you say? Want to grab a drink later?”
Dominic stared at me with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open in disbelief as if I’d transformed into the devil himself.
Okay, maybe I’d overstepped a bit too far, but my thoughts were racing now, faster than I could control.
“Why are you such an asshole?” Dominic sneered.
“Huh? Excuse me? You’re the one being secretive about some guy who’s obviously got you completely thrown off balance.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to badmouth him.”
“Why shouldn’t I say something when I know the guy’s trouble?”
“You know? You don’t know anything, do you?”
“You need proof? I can get proof. Trust me.”
“You know what? Just forget it.”
Dominic tried again to walk past me, but I continued to step in his way.
“Forget what?”
“This.” He waved a finger back and forth between us.
“I’m done taking orders from you. Last week, I didn’t recognize you at all.
At Sebastian’s wedding, you acted like nothing had happened.
Then, I wake up alone in your apartment, don’t see you for days, and get no answers to my questions.
And today, you’re losing your damn mind. ”
“Huh? What are we even talking about here?” I asked, genuinely confused. “Are you upset because I insulted some guy who didn’t even have your number anymore?”
“You know what? Yes,” Dominic snapped. “Maybe I’m better off with Livio.”
“What did you just say?”
“At least with him, I know where I stand! You’re insane. Totally nuts. You’ve lost your mind.”
A black haze clouded my vision, and as if I were watching myself from a distance, I saw my fist clench, my arm swing back, and my knuckles collide with Dominic’s jaw.
Our fight hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sebastian and Theo must have seen this coming because they were on us in seconds, hauling me back before I could do anything else.
I hadn’t planned to hit him or follow up with anything worse. Goddammit—I wasn’t a violent person. But punching him had been necessary. If Theo hadn’t dragged me back, I might have shoved Dominic against the wall and told him exactly what I thought—with my forearm at his throat.
No one had the right to call me crazy.
Fuming, I wrenched myself free of Theo’s grip. “Get off me!” I snarled, turning back to Dominic.
He cursed under his breath, bracing himself on his knees as if waiting for the dizziness to subside.
“You okay?” Sebastian asked, crouching beside him and placing a hand on his back.
Dominic nodded and stood up.
“We’re done,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. “Just leave me alone.”
As he turned and climbed back onstage, it felt like my entire reality crumbled around me, and my heart tried desperately to make up for whatever beat it had missed earlier.
“Fuck,” I muttered and stormed off in the opposite direction.
He wants me to leave him alone?
What the hell?