Epilogue
CALEB
Two Months Later
Caleb
You ever just lay here and think about how much of a disappointment you are?
Miguel
Go to sleep.
Caleb
Can’t. Brain won’t stop. It’s like every mistake I’ve ever made is replaying on a loop.
Miguel
Then I’ll make you a promise. Every time your brain feeds you a lie, I’ll replace it with the truth.
Caleb
That sounds exhausting.
Miguel
Good thing I don’t get tired of you.
Caleb
You’re too calm about this. About us.
Miguel
Because I know you. You’ll fight yourself until sunrise. So let me be the one who wins tonight. Put the phone down. Close your eyes. I’ll still be here when you wake up.
There’s your first truth.
Caleb
I just don’t get why you even want me. I’m a mess. I’m not… normal. I can’t shut my brain off long enough to even enjoy whatever this without overthinking every second.
Miguel
So what? You think I need perfect? You think I want quiet? Hi have you met me? I’m the least quiet person out there.
Caleb
…I think you’ll get tired of me.
Miguel
Never. You’re mine, and mine means I deal with every spiral, every sleepless night, every thought that eats you alive. You don’t scare me, Caleb. I know exactly what I signed up for when I kissed you.
Caleb
You say that now.
Miguel
I’ll say it tomorrow, and the day after, and every time your head won’t shut up. Now go the fuck to sleep, pretty boy. You have to kick some finals ass tomorrow.
The sun cuts across the courtyard, sharp and golden, bouncing off the concrete and glass windows. I lean back on the bench, legs stretched out, laughing with some guys from class as we debrief after finals.
It feels almost… normal.
I almost feel normal.
There’s chatter about grades, groaning about professors, and somebody bragging about the keg they’ve already got stashed for tonight.
My backpack rests against my shin, heavy with textbooks—ones I won’t be cracking open for at least two weeks.
My sneakers are scuffed from sprinting across campus, but for once, I’m not running anywhere.
I let myself sink into the moment, into the relief of a semester finally over.
For a second, I almost believe that I’m just another guy. Just another student.
Almost.
Then my pocket buzzes. A steady vibration, insistent, like it knows better.
I fish out my phone, expecting maybe a group chat update from the basketball team or one of the guys spamming memes.
It’s not.
My chest tightens. Thumb hovering over the screen, I already know before I see it. Heat curls low in my stomach, winding tight.
Miguel.
His name lights up my screen like a brand.
I shouldn’t open it.
I do.
Miguel
Hope you did well on your exams, little brother. Make sure you bring your running shoes for Christmas break.
I can’t wait to be buried inside you again.
The words slam into me, stealing my breath.
Around me, the courtyard keeps moving—laughter, voices, the shuffle of footsteps—but it all fades to a low hum. I can only see the screen, those lines glowing back at me, his voice threading through them like he’s whispering against my ear.
I grip the phone so tight my knuckles ache. My heart hammers, my skin prickling with memory: rope biting into my wrists, his teeth dragging down my throat, the sound of his laugh when I begged him not to stop.
I bite down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. My friends keep talking, oblivious to what’s going on with me.
But I can feel him.
Every word drags me back to him, to the chase, to the obsession that’s never loosened its grip on me.
Heat and shame curl together, fire and smoke in my chest. My fingers hover over the screen. I shouldn’t reply. God, I shouldn’t.
But I do.
Caleb
I already have them packed.
I need you inside me as soon as I get home.
I shove the phone into my pocket, pulse racing. My leg bounces under the table. I can’t breathe right, can’t steady myself, because I know what I just set in motion.
It’s been like this since that night, since his voice claimed me in ways I can’t unhear.
I’ve tried to be normal. To study, to laugh with friends, to walk across campus like nothing inside me is completely falling apart and raw with hunger.
But the truth is, I’ve been wrecked since I left.
Every quiet night in the dorm, I’ve replayed the way he bound me, marked me, and forced me to say I loved it.
And I did.
God help me, I did.
Now the semester’s over. No more excuses, no more distance. Just the long, dark stretch of winter break waiting, and him waiting at the end of it.
Images flash behind my eyelids: us sneaking through the house while our parents sleep.
His hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the sounds he wrings out of me.
The woods behind the property, branches bare, cold air burning my lungs as he takes me hard and fast against a tree because we just can’t wait.
It should terrify me.
It does.
But I’m still trembling with need, still leaning into the edge he gives me.
Fuck if we get caught.
Fuck if it ruins me.
The semester is over, but I know one thing for sure: I’ll be running again. And he’ll be waiting, rope in hand, hunger in his eyes, already planning the next way to break me.
A slow grin curls at my lips, impossible to hide. Half-excited. Half afraid.
Christmas break can’t come soon enough.