Chapter 21 #2
Then Landen shifted. Stepped slightly to the side, adjusting his weight, and the person he'd been speaking to became fully visible.
The world narrowed to a single point.
Zach.
Adriel's breath left him all at once.
The champagne glass trembled in his hand. Nausea rolled through him, sudden and violent, rising from somewhere deep. His vision tunneled, edges going dark, everything contracting to that one spot across the room.
Zach.
He was standing with Landen, laughing easily, one hand gesturing as he talked. Confident. Relaxed. Beautiful in the careless way he had always been. His hair was the same, his smile was the same, the arrogant way he occupied space was exactly as Adriel remembered.
For a fraction of a second, Zach's gaze drifted across the room. Caught on Adriel.
Recognition flickered in his eyes. Adriel saw it, the moment Zach registered who he was looking at, the brief pause as the memory surfaced.
Then his mouth curved. The same dismissive smirk he'd worn the last time Adriel saw him, the one that had said you don't matter, you never did, and everyone here knows it. The one that had lived in Adriel's memory for years, playing on repeat in the dark hours.
Zach's gaze held for just a moment longer; just long enough to make sure Adriel saw it. Then he turned back to Landen as if Adriel wasn't there.
Adriel stood frozen at the bar, champagne shaking in his hand, and watched them. Watched Zach touch Landen's arm as he made a point. Watched Landen laugh at something he said.
They matched.
That was the thought that lodged in his chest and wouldn't move.
They matched. Tall and sharp and confident and handsome.
Two men who belonged in this room, in each other's company, in a way Adriel had never belonged anywhere.
Two men who looked like they'd known each other for years, who had the easy familiarity of old friends.
Men like that always knew each other.
The thought formed before he could stop it, rising up from the place where Zach's voice still lived. The place that whispered I would never be with someone like you. The place that had been carved out years ago and had never quite healed over.
If they knew each other, then…
His mind filled in the gaps faster than he could stop it.
All the pieces clicking into place with horrible, perfect logic.
Landen and Zach, old friends, meeting for drinks.
Comparing notes. Laughing over the desperate one, the fat one, the needy one who thought he mattered.
The one who believed every pretty word, every careful touch, every whispered good boy.
Who let himself be tied up and taken apart and put back together and thought it meant something.
This was a game.
It was always a game.
He could see it now, so clearly it made him sick. The setup. The seduction. The careful, patient work of making someone believe they were wanted, just so you could laugh about it later with someone who would appreciate the joke.
The champagne glass shook violently in his hand. Liquid sloshed toward the rim. He set it down on the bar before it could spill.
And then he ran
∞∞∞
Landen
Landen noticed Adriel's absence the way you noticed a change in temperature; not all at once, but with a creeping unease that sharpened into alarm.
He had spotted him immediately, when Adriel had arrived.
He couldn't help it. Adriel had, somehow, become a shiny beacon, pulling Landen's attention any time he stepped into a room. It was involuntary by now, automatic, his gaze searching for that particular head of hair, that particular warmth that existed only in the space Adriel occupied.
He'd seen him come in. Seen him hesitate at the entrance, take in the room, make his way toward the bar. Had watched him order champagne, scan the crowd.
Landen had smiled to himself. Small. Private. Had forced himself to look away, to focus on the conversation he was in, to maintain the distance they'd agreed on.
Then, somewhere between one glance and the next, Adriel had vanished.
Landen didn't notice at first. He was deep in conversation with the author they were celebrating and his partner. But somewhere beneath the words, beneath the smiles and the nodding, something was tugging at him.
He glanced toward the bar.
Adriel wasn't there.
He scanned the room casually, still half-listening. The crowd near the stage. The clusters by the windows. The far corner.
Adriel wasn't anywhere.
The unease sharpened. He excused himself, smoothly, he hoped, with a smile and a promise to continue later, and moved through the room.
Checked the bar again, in case Adriel had moved to a different spot.
Checked the hallway leading to the restrooms. Checked the terrace, pushing through the doors into the cold night air.
He pulled out his phone. Called.
It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Went to voicemail.
He called again.
The edge in his breathing was hard to hide now. He stood in the middle of the terrace, cold wind cutting through his jacket, and listened to the phone ring and ring and ring.
He went back inside. Checked again. Circled the room twice, ignoring the people who tried to catch his eye, the conversations that attempted to pull him in. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the same sharp question: what happened?
The rest of the event passed in a haze.
Landen stayed because he had to. He smiled when required. Shook hands. Made conversation that he couldn't have repeated five minutes later. His body was there, performing the rituals of his job, but his mind was elsewhere.
He texted.
Where are you?
He called again, excusing himself to a quiet corner. Voicemail.
Where did you go? Call me..
He checked his phone so many times he lost count.
By the time the event wound down and he could finally leave, the anticipation he'd been carrying all evening had curdled into something else entirely.
He'd had plans, specific plans, the kind he'd been thinking about all week.
Adriel in his bed. Adriel in his arms. The way he'd imagined the night ending, the two of them tangled together in the dark, warm and safe and his.
Now he just wanted to know Adriel was okay.
He drove too fast. Parked haphazardly. Took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
His apartment was dark when he opened the door. He stood in the entryway, keys still in his hand, and felt the silence press in around him. No light from the bedroom. No sound from the bathroom. No sign that anyone had been here at all.
He checked anyway. Walked through each room, turning on lights as he went, knowing already what he would find.
The bedroom was pristine. The bed still made from that morning. Nothing disturbed.
Landen stood in the doorway and felt the weight of it settle over him. He pulled out his phone again. Stared at it.
No messages. No calls.
He typed:
Please tell me you're okay.
His thumb hovered over send. Then he hit it and stood there in the empty apartment, waiting for a reply that didn't come.