Epilogue
ROMAN
The only sound in the apartment is our breathing, still uneven from before. Damon’s sprawled out beneath me, his hand dragging slow, lazy circles along my spine while I lay half on top of him, my cheek pressed against his chest.
The rise and fall of it is steady and grounding, and I try to focus on that—on the warmth of his skin, the way his fingers move against me like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. I should just stay here. Stay in this moment, in this feeling.
But I can’t.
My eyes flick to the nightstand, where the envelope sits. The one with my name written in Caleb’s handwriting. The one I’ve been too much of a fucking coward to open.
Until now.
I inhale, exhale, then push up slightly, shifting until I’m sitting up on Damon’s hips. His fingers tighten around my waist, like he knows something’s changed, like he can feel the weight pressing down on me before I even say anything.
“You sure?” Damon asks as if he can read my mind, his voice low and still rough from exhaustion and sex, but clear.
I nod. “Yeah.”
His eyes hold mine for a second, and then he sits up, keeping one arm wrapped around my waist as he reaches for the envelope. He doesn’t hand it to me right away, just runs his thumb over the edge before finally placing it in my hand.
I don’t move.
I just look at it.
Damon exhales sharply, his free hand coming up to cup the back of my neck, his thumb rubbing over the hinge of my jaw. “I’m right here.”
I swallow, nodding once before forcing myself to tear open the envelope. The paper inside is thick, heavier than I expected, and my fingers shake slightly as I unfold it.
Then, I breathe and I start to read.
—
Roman,
I already know you’re blaming yourself. I know you’re sitting there, reading this, thinking of a thousand ways you could have stopped this. I need you to stop, babe. Please, this was never your fault.
Nothing you could have done would have changed my mind. This wasn’t a decision I made lightly… it was one a few years in the making. I hate that I’m doing this to you. But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay, because I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time.
Loving you was the best thing I’ve ever done. The easiest thing I’ve ever done.
You were my best friend. My first love. My only love. The happiest moments of my life were the ones I spent with you and knowing I was loved by you. I wish I could have been stronger. I wish I could have been brave enough to say it out loud when I was still here. But I wasn’t.
I overheard a phone call between Damon and my dad tonight. I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just... heard it. He must’ve found out that Damon is gay because the shit he said was so fucked up. I heard the way he spat hateful words like my brother was something to be ashamed of, something dirty. And I realized that if that’s what he thought of Damon, there was no hope for me.
I don’t blame D, I need you to understand that. That call might have been the final shove, but I was already standing at the edge.
The only sure thing in my life was you. But I can’t pretend I’d ever be brave enough to be yours out loud. And you… babe, you deserve that. You deserve to be loved openly. You deserve to be loved in public and not feel like someone’s dirty secret.
And you will be. Someone will love you that way, Roman. I’m sorry that it won’t ever be me.
I had a dream last night where I saw you and Damon together. He was holding you, and fuck, I’ve never seen you look that happy before. It felt like the universe was trying to tell me something, like it was showing me where you were supposed to be.
I hope you get there when I leave. I hope when you read this five years from now, that you’ve stopped blaming yourself. I hope you’ve let yourself move forward without me. I hope you know that wherever I am now, I still love you. I will always love you.
But please, Roman, don’t carry this for me. Don’t carry my pain or blame yourself for not seeing a change in me. Remember, I’ve been hiding our love for years, lying and denial became all too easy for me.
Live. Find love. Be happy, and don’t let Damon push you away when he eventually comes to you. He’s going to try, you know. He’ll find a million ways to tell himself he’s not good enough for anything. A million ways to convince himself he doesn’t deserve to be cared for. Don’t let him.
Take care of him for me. Take care of yourself from now on.
I love you. I’m sorry.
Cay
—
My hands are shaking.
I let out a shuddering breath, my chest tight as I stare at the words, reading them over and over like maybe if I do, they’ll change. Like maybe he’ll tell me something different, something I want to hear.
I swipe at my face, but my vision is already blurred, my throat tight. I look at Damon, whose face is unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes that see right through me—are locked onto mine.
Without a word, I place the letter in his hands and he stiffens. I feel more than see the hesitation and fear before he swallows and takes it from me. The room is silent except for the sound of his breathing, slow and uneven as he reads. I don’t move. I just watch.
I watch his fingers tighten around the paper, watch the way his jaw tenses, the way his throat bobs when he swallows. I feel the way his body goes rigid beneath mine, like he’s trying to keep himself together, trying not to let this break him apart.
And then, something cracks.
His hands lower slightly, his head bowing forward. His lips part, his breath shuddering out, and I see the moment it hits him. The moment it destroys him.
Damon’s shoulders tremble, his hands curling into fists against my waist. He drops the letter beside us and pulls me into his chest. His arms lock around me, his face pressing into my shoulder as he exhales hard, like maybe if he lets it all out, it won’t suffocate him.
I don’t say anything. I just wrap my arms around him and hold on.
He’s shaking. I feel it against my chest, the way his body fights against the weight of everything, the way he’s trying to contain something uncontainable. I feel the way his fingers dig into my back, the way his breath hitches like he’s choking on something he doesn’t know how to release.
And then—
“I love you.”
My whole body locks up. Damon doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe for a second, like he’s just realizing he said it out loud.
I lean back slightly, looking at him, his green eyes raw and glassy, his lips slightly parted like maybe he wants to take it back, like maybe he’s afraid of what I’ll do with it.
“Say it again,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches and his hands tighten on my back. “Roman—”
“Say it again.”
Damon exhales sharply, shaking his head once before he finally looks me in the eyes, his grip steady, his expression stripped bare. “I love you, Roman.”
I breathe out, my hands coming up to cradle his face, my thumbs brushing over the dampness under his eyes, and then I kiss him.
It’s slow and deep, filled with everything I can’t fucking say—everything I feel, everything I know. His fingers tighten in my hair, holding on like I’m something real, something constant. I kiss him as if to convey the fact that I fucking am. He’s mine, I’m his.
And Caleb fucking knew.
Damon’s fingers dig into my back, his body still trembling slightly as I kiss him like I’m trying to pour every fucking emotion into him, every unsaid word, every shattered piece I’ve been holding onto.
I don’t care that my face is wet, that my chest still feels tight from Caleb’s words. I don’t care that my hands are shaking as I hold him. I just need this. Need him.
Damon’s lips part against mine, and he exhales sharply, like he’s releasing something heavy, something he’s been carrying alone for too fucking long. I press my forehead to his, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. My hands cradle his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, wiping away the wetness there.
His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw tight, and I can feel the way he’s fighting against this, against the way his body wants to break apart. “You still with me?” I whisper.
Damon lets out a shaky breath, nodding once. “Yeah.”
I don’t push him for more. Instead, I trail my fingers down his neck, over the sharp line of his collarbone, feeling the way his pulse hammers beneath my touch. He’s here. He’s real.
And he fucking loves me.
I swallow hard, my throat still thick with emotion. “Say it again.”
Damon chuckles low, shaking his head like I’m fucking impossible. “I love you,” he murmurs, softer this time.
I breathe out, my chest aching in a way I can’t explain. My hands slide down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath my palms. I press against him slightly, watching the way his pupils blow wide.
“Say it one more time,” I whisper.
There’s something softer in his expression now, something almost fond. He exhales, tilting his head back slightly before meeting my gaze again. “I love you, Roman Bishop,” he repeats like he’s finally settling into the words and letting himself believe them.
I lean in, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his throat. “Good,” I murmur. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”
His arms tighten around me, and I feel the way his body relaxes slightly beneath mine. “I fucking hope so. Now say it back.”
I bark out a laugh and pull him close before whispering against his lips, “I love you, too.”
For a long moment, we just stay like that, wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air, letting the weight of everything settle between us. And then, because I’m a little shit and I can’t let the moment stay serious for too long, I lean back and smirk.
“Caleb called it, huh?” I tease, nudging his jaw with my nose.
Damon snorts, rolling his eyes. “He always did have a way of being annoyingly right about shit.”
“Wonder if he’s watching us now,” I say, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Probably pissed that I’ve got his big brother wrapped around my finger.”
He scoffs, his fingers tightening on my hips. “You wish you had me wrapped around your finger.”
I grin. “I know I do.”
Damon huffs a laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue. He just pulls me closer, his hands warm and steady on my back.
We sit there for a while, letting the silence settle around us, letting the reality of everything sink in. The letter, Caleb’s words, the weight of it all.
Damon exhales. He moves slightly, one hand coming up to thread through my hair, his fingers dragging against my scalp in a way that makes me shiver. “You think Caleb really meant it?”
I frown slightly, pulling back to look at him. “Meant what?”
His throat bobs. “That he wasn’t going to change his mind. That nothing we could’ve done would’ve stopped him.”
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “Yeah,” I say, my voice rough. “I do.”
Damon’s jaw clenches, his eyes flicking away for a second before he sighs and nods. “Yeah. Me too.”
And that, more than anything, feels like something breaking loose between us. Like an understanding. Like a piece of the past that neither of us could let go of finally slipping away.
“I lied, you know,” he says and I watch as his throat bobs. “Caleb wouldn’t have hated what you’ve become. I’m sorry for saying that, I just said it to hurt you.”
I nod, thinking back to the time we thought we hated each other. “I know, babe.”
He moves suddenly, his hands gripping my hips, and before I can react, he flips us, pinning me to the mattress with his weight. I let out a surprised breath, blinking up at him as he smirks down at me.
“Done being soft?” I tease, dragging my fingers down his chest.
His smirk widens, his eyes darkening as he leans in close, his nose brushing against mine. “Oh, I like being soft with you.”
I arch a brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth, then trailing them along my jaw. “But I love ruining you more.”
A shiver runs down my spine, my hands gripping his waist. “Oh, yeah?”
Damon hums against my skin, his tongue flicking over the spot just beneath my ear. “Mhm.”
I laugh breathlessly, my body already heating under his. “Fuck, you’re needy today.”
He pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Today?”
I grin. “Okay, always.”
“Damn right.”
Then, before I can say another word, he kisses me—deep and slow, his fingers gripping my jaw as he takes his time, as he makes it clear that I am his, that he’s not going anywhere.
That whatever the fuck this is between us?
It’s real.
It’s ours.
And it’s just getting started.
The End