Chapter 37 #2
"The bigger picture?" Lysander laughed, bitter and sharp.
"The bigger picture is that my twin brother was assaulted because of what I do.
Instead of letting me process that, instead of offering even a shred of comfort, you insisted on a fuck to 'loosen me up,' and now you're pitching me porn scenarios based on his trauma. "
"I'm trying to salvage our brand," Dane snapped. "Which, in case you've forgotten, is how we pay for this flat. How we afford your designer clothes and your premium everything. Your family drama is affecting our bottom line."
Family drama. As if Stephen getting attacked was equivalent to a tiff over Christmas dinner.
"You've always been the weak link in our partnership," Dane continued, years of suppressed frustration bleeding through. "Too caught up in feelings, too worried about what people think. Typical omega. I've guided you this far despite your limitations, and this is how you repay me?"
"My limitations?" Lysander's voice was steady. "What limitations would those be?"
"Your inability to separate emotion from business.
Your constant need for validation. Your frankly exhausting attachment to that council flat family of yours.
" Dane's voice dripped contempt. "I've spent six years trying to elevate you, and you're still just a scared little omega from Barking, playing dress-up. "
The words should have hurt. Should have devastated. Instead, Lysander's chest loosened. He was finally hearing Dane say out loud what he'd been thinking all along.
"You're right," Lysander said quietly. "I am still that omega from Barking. I still care about my family. Still think there are more important things than subscriber counts and profit margins."
"Exactly," Dane said, missing the shift entirely. "Which is why you need to trust me on this. Let me handle the business side. You just do what you do best. Look pretty, spread your legs, and follow direction."
Lysander closed his eyes. More money. More content. More compromises. More moments where human pain became marketing opportunity and his protests were dismissed as emotional weakness. The road stretched ahead, clear and flat and endless.
"Your brother's smart, Sander," Dane said, and Lysander's skin crawled. "But at the end of the day, he's just another omega hole. The sooner you accept that, the easier this gets."
The hairline fracture split wide open.
Just another omega hole. His brilliant, brave, traumatised brother reduced to anatomy and market potential.
"No," Lysander said, and the word contained everything. No to the content. No to the exploitation. No to six more years of this. No to Dane.
"No?" Dane's voice carried a warning. "Sander, think carefully about what you're saying."
The knot was softening, finally. Lysander pulled away the moment biology allowed, not caring about the mess, not caring about Dane's sound of protest.
"Where are you going?" Dane demanded as Lysander grabbed his joggers from the floor.
"Away." Lysander pulled on clothes with mechanical precision.
"Away?" Dane sat up, his perfectly styled hair finally showing signs of disruption. "Sander, don't be dramatic. We're having a business discussion."
"No." Lysander found his shirt. "You're having a business discussion about monetising my brother's assault. I'm leaving."
"You can't just leave." Dane's voice carried the tone of someone not used to being denied. "We have contracts. Joint accounts. The flat is in both our names."
"Keep it." God, the freedom in those two words. "Keep all of it."
"You're being ridiculous." Dane stood, still naked, still gorgeous, still completely missing the point. "Over what? Some misguided loyalty to a brother who judges everything you do?"
Lysander paused, hand on the door handle.
"You know what? You're right. Stephen has judged me.
Called me out. Made me face uncomfortable truths about my choices.
" He looked back at Dane. Really looked at him, for perhaps the first time in years.
"But even at his worst, even when he was angry and hurt, he never once reduced me to my holes and earning potential. "
"Lysander." Dane's voice shifted, trying a new tactic. "Darling. Let's discuss this rationally."
"I'm done discussing anything with you." Lysander opened the door. "I'm done with themed content and market analysis and pretending that what we have is anything more than a profitable arrangement."
"You won't last a week without me," Dane called after him. "You need me. Need my guidance, my connections, my business head."
Lysander paused in the doorway.
"Maybe," he said. "But I'd rather fail as myself than succeed as your performing puppet."
He walked out then, leaving behind six years of his life with nothing but the clothes on his back and a mobile phone that wouldn't stop buzzing.
It was perfect. Standing there in his building's hallway, Lysander realised he could breathe properly for the first time in hours.
Days. Years, possibly. The weight he'd been carrying, the constant calculation of Dane's moods and market demands and content schedules, simply lifted.
Whatever Stephen's response was going to be, whatever happened next, Lysander knew one thing with absolute certainty: he was done being Theo. Done performing. Done letting anyone, even someone he'd thought he loved, reduce the people he cared about to content opportunities.