Chapter 27 - Dominic
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Dominic
The walk with Nico helped me center myself.
When we returned late in the afternoon and found Luca and Juri kissing on the couch, I wasn’t bothered.
I thought about Kilian and wondered where he was.
As far as I knew, he didn’t have another performance until Sunday, which was when he had to be present.
While Luca and Juri retreated to their room and Nico sat down with his laptop for a bit, I used the time to do my exercises and meditate.
Later in the evening, Hector joined us and fired up the grill. Nico and Luca prepared a few salads, and I sat with Juri in the shade, drinking a beer. I couldn’t resist and asked him about his career as a callboy. Who knows, maybe someday I’d be playing one myself.
Hector was within earshot but kept quiet.
When Juri went inside, I walked over to him.
I was surprised at how well we had connected since that day we waited together outside Nico’s room in the hospital.
That moment had bonded us in some way. Hector had even thanked me later for calling the ambulance in time.
He was going through a divorce, which likely explained why he no longer appeared to be the impeccably groomed lawyer he once was.
Instead, he gave off the impression of someone suffering from some sort of obsession.
Since being with Nico, he had loosened up, even letting his brown hair fall into wild disarray.
“How’s it going, Corvo?” I asked, sipping my beer. “Everything okay at your other home?”
He glanced up briefly, then turned back to the grill.
“My girls have gradually accepted that I’m into guys,” he answered in a monotone. “But Viktoria probably won’t get over her bruised ego anytime soon.” Hector paused. “And you know what?” He turned his head toward me. “I’ve never been better.”
“I’m happy for you, man. It gives me hope.”
“Nico told me what happened yesterday.”
“That was quick,” I muttered into the bottle, taking another sip.
“Does it reassure you if I say I knew you were trouble?”
I laughed. “And I thought I had played my true self so well.”
“You’re an actor, but you can’t keep up the mask forever in real life. Just look at me.” He effortlessly flipped the meat on the grill. “Everything was fine until I made that one mistake.”
“Nico? After the poker game?”
“Yeah … One little mistake, and the whole house of cards came crashing down.”
“I didn’t try to keep it a secret. It just never felt like the right time to confess.”
“The lighting designer, right?”
I just nodded.
“You picked a good-looking guy.”
I exhaled in amusement. “It’s probably the other way around. He picked me.”
“And what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know … I fell back into old patterns and pushed him away.”
“So now it’s up to you to beg him for mercy on your knees?”
“Fuck … as if the situation wasn’t humiliating enough.”
“You’ve got this, Mick.”
I wasn’t so sure. Even though I appeared relaxed with the guys, on the inside, I was constantly ruminating on what I should say to Kilian and how I should face him on Tuesday.
It wasn’t until Monday that I finally turned off airplane mode to make an appointment with my therapist.
It was a relief that Livio hadn’t sent me a message, but there was also no sign of Kilian, and the disappointment was overwhelming.
When I sat with Dr. Bachmann on Tuesday morning, talking about my setback from the previous Friday, Kilian kept creeping into the forefront of my mind.
Part of me was worried about him, because when he had fucked me at Livio’s place on Friday, there had been this darkness that had mysteriously taken over him.
Kilian was there, but also not there—out of control, yet somehow contained, ruled by this wild animal that had dominated me in such an exquisite way.
God, it was hot!
But something wasn’t right. Kilian had acted out of anger, not desire. He hadn’t called me “babe” even once. His dark gaze had been distant, as though he was hiding the wounds I had caused him with my words and actions.
I quickly shook off the thoughts of Kilian and tried to focus on the session—after all, Dr. Bachmann wasn’t entirely innocent in this either.
“You led me straight into the trap,” I said without sounding accusatory.
“What do you mean?”
“You knew I’d fail miserably at my plan to live as a monk for three months.”
Bachmann couldn’t hide a smirk and crossed one leg over the other. “Setbacks are part of the process, Mr. Pereira,” he said. “You’re showing typical addict behavior. You make some progress, and suddenly you think you have everything under control. Learn from this and do better next time.”
“I’ll give you credit for tricking me into this, but that resolution actually gave me some stability—at least for a while.”
“What happened? Can you pinpoint the moment that made you fail?”
I stared at Bachmann, trying to put the pieces together.
In the five weeks I’d been here, I’d never once mentioned Kilian.
At first, I didn’t think it was important.
But as we got closer, I didn’t want to share him with my therapist. He shouldn’t be part of this space where I felt weak, where I revealed the side of myself that had always felt like a failure.
Though Kilian had already given me several orgasms …
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned, massaging my forehead. “If you’re asking like that, I guess we need to start from the beginning.”
“We have time.”
And so, I told Dr. Bachmann about my time with Kilian—how persistent he had been when we first met, how we’d run into each other again at the theater, kissed after the exhibit, and how he had brought me to orgasm in one of the playrooms at Red—without the help of Viagra.
And finally, how Kilian had been involved in the reunion with Livio and then unexpectedly showed up at the party.
“He was different,” I added sadly. “Surrounded by darkness, almost like he wasn’t in control of himself. I mean … he was still himself, but it was like when he called in sick. He wasn’t himself then, either. He seemed almost depressed, even though he told me he was just overworked.”
“From what you’ve described, it’s very possible that he has a psychological imbalance,” Bachmann observed.
“I remember … there were pills in his bathroom. Lithium … something.”
“Lithium carbonate is used for mental disorders.”
It was as if I had sensed it all along but just ignored or refused to acknowledge it. Bachmann’s words struck me like a sudden landslide, leaving me speechless.
“You’re worried about him,” Bachmann observed correctly. “That’s good. Maybe you should consider what you want to say to him when you see him again.”
I nodded. Ever since Saturday, this had been the predominant thought in my mind. “I’ll figure something out.”
After the session, I headed to rehearsal. My heart raced like a revved-up engine, thumping hard against my chest as I entered the theater. I kept reminding myself that no one here knew about my escapades—except Kilian.
I did my job diligently, focusing on the lines and scenes. When I saw Sebastian on the walkie-talkie and heard him talking about a spotlight issue, I paid attention. But it was Tim who responded over the radio.
“Is Kilian off today?” I asked Sebastian.
He glimpsed at me, surprised. “I thought you knew where he was.”
“What? Me? Why would I?”
“Didn’t you two sort out what happened last Thursday?”
I was standing with Sebastian on the side stage when I heard Theo’s voice from the audience.
“Hamlet?” he called out.
“But he had a performance on Sunday.”
“Tim was here.”
Theo’s voice grew louder. “Where’s Hamlet?”
“Maybe Theo knows more now. I haven’t seen him since he left last Friday.”
“Dominic! Where are you?” Theo called out impatiently.
I ran out onto the stage and kept going as if nothing had happened.
The fact that Kilian seemed to be missing was unsettling, so I decided to stop by his place on my way home.
I had planned to confront him and face my mistakes.
Kilian deserved the truth from the beginning, but I hadn’t been man enough to let him in on the darker parts of my past.
No matter how many times I rang the doorbell, Kilian didn’t seem to be there, so I went home. Nico was sitting on the balcony, scrolling through his phone.
“Hey!” he shouted once he saw me. “So? How’d it go?”
I knew he wasn’t interested in my therapy session or my workday—he wanted to know how things went between Kilian and me.
“He wasn’t there,” I said, sitting down at the table with him.
“Where was he?” Nico asked, still staring at his phone intently.
“I have no idea. What are you doing?”
“Urgh!” Nico groaned in frustration, putting his phone down. “I tried making an Instagram account, but the damn thing’s not working.”
I laughed and took his phone. He was still in the app. “You already have an account. What’s not working?”
“I want to change the name,” he pointed at the profile name.
“You can’t do that for another two weeks.”
“What? Why not?”
“That’s just the way it is.” I tapped on it and showed him the screen. “If you’d read the notifications, you’d know.”
“Who reads those?”
I snickered and opened the app on my phone. I didn’t use it much, so it wasn’t surprising that I had several notifications. Before doing anything, I searched for Nico and followed him. “There, now you have your first follower.”
“Cool,” he said, grinning. “Glad it’s you.”
I was scrolling through posts when one from Kilian popped up. It was hard to tell what it was—just light in various shades of blue.
“Is that ice?” Nico asked when he glanced at my phone.
“Could be,” I replied.
“Looks like glacier colors.”
“Hm …”
“Who posted this?”
“Kilian.”
“Is he on vacation?”
“Didn’t sound like it at the theater today,” I said, clicking on his profile.