“This is why I didn’t want you here . . .”

I’d said this without truly thinking at first.

Yes, I didn’t want Sammy there. I’d told my grandmother this the other day when we were discussing the party. In all honesty, I did not intend for it to escape my lips with such malice. It was unintentional, without real meaning, and I was afraid of the consequences once it left my mouth.

Of course in the beginning I didn’t believe Sammy would think much of it, much less cry, and yet here he was, tearing up at the mere words that I’d uttered in the presence of my family.

I didn’t know what else to do but stand there, completely shocked at the fact that I’d made Sammy cry. It was something I’d been planning on doing for a long time, to get rid of him, but I never thought I’d do it without fully being aware.

Sammy wiped at his eyes as I searched for words.

The sight of him doing so made my heart flip.

It was . . . heartbreaking, for some unknowable reason.

“I’m—I already know I don’t belong here, but—I only wanted to help you—” He said. Those words, I’d heard him say them before, though I never considered them to be real. I still couldn’t process it as true.

For once, I hadn’t intended to coat my words with poison, but Sammy must’ve taken it the wrong way. I couldn’t blame him, mostly because I had a habit of spitting rudeness at him at all times. It was my own fault, all of it, again, and Sammy had been hurt by it, again.

No wonder he hated me.

I’d made people cry before, and I’d felt nothing from it. But Sammy . . . Sammy was so strong at every given moment, I’d forgotten he was human as well, I forgot . . . that Sammy could also feel too. I just thought he’d never break.

Why did I think like that? Of course he’d break one day. I guess I depended on him too much, leaned on him too much, witnessed his strength too much. I needed to know that this wasn’t some one-person seesaw.

I had no idea it’d affect me in such a deep way too. It quite literally made my heart sink, watching his usual big, bright eyes darken in a wave of emotions.

Why? Was it because I’d never seen a member of my living family cry? Sammy wasn’t family though. Sammy was . . . what?

“Sammy.” I called out to him.

He panicked, “I need . . . air . . .”

He was going to leave, leave me behind because I’d said something heartless. Wasn’t this what I wanted? I had to let him run away. That was what I’d been planning all along and yet—

I took his arm, surprising myself.

Sammy was warm, shivering, and hesitant in his hold. It wasn’t the same person I’d known for weeks. This was a different Sammy. An uncertain Sammy.

At the mere thought, I didn’t want to let go. And it hurt even more so when he chose to do it himself, shaking off my grip to abandon me in the middle of the party.

I never got a chance to tell him I was sorry.

Forget father. All I wanted to do was to go after Sammy. And for what? How would that benefit me? Going after a leech, it wasn’t anything I’d ever done before.

Sammy . . . Sammy . . . was getting to my head, and I didn’t like it one bit. And the fact that he couldn’t stand how I’d reached out for him, pricked at me like needles in my skin. It was as if he didn’t want my apology. But then again, maybe he didn’t believe I’d give him one, even though I had already done so once before.

And I’d never apologized to anyone, not even my own father. Grandmother, yes, because she terrified me, but—no one else had ever reached so deeply into my very being. I found it so frustrating that such a small, poor boy as Sammy could do that.

What was I becoming because of him?

I thought of this as I went to catch up to him. I’d known he’d go to the garden, because he wouldn’t dare take any risks in meeting me at our connected rooms.

And so when I set my sights on him, leaning beneath the gazebo, head hanging low and fingers playing at the hem of his sleeves, I sighed.

Father would definitely kill me for being late.

I strolled up the steps of the small building and latched onto Sammy’s arm, scaring him slightly. “Lucas . . . ?” He said, eyes wide with confusion. “What’re you . . . ?”

“I’m not just going to abandon someone who’s crying.” I stated angrily, gripping his arm.

“Your dad—” He reminded me.

“He can wait.” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Or did that fight not affect you in any way?”

“It—it didn’t.” He said, lowly.

I didn’t believe him. There was just no way he wasn’t hurt by what I did. Hell, I was also confused by how I was reacting to the entire thing. Though I couldn’t just speak to father while this boy continued to cry because of my doing.

I gazed down at him, regarding the way his eyes grew bigger, rounder, puffier, as the tears escaped easily. He really did look different without glasses, much younger, and more docile, as grandma had said.

He looked . . . beautiful.

“Then why are you crying?” I asked him, ignoring my unnecessary observations. I was being rather cruel.

“I’m not.” He told me, pointing to his eyes. “My contacts were hurting.”

My heart did another flip, but this time it was partly due to relief. Though I still couldn’t accept the fact that it was merely his contacts. There must’ve been something more.

I exhaled, “You scared me.”

Sammy remained standing there, twiddling his fingers. His confident stance had been reduced to something small, something so unlike the person I’d come to know.

My first instinct was to take him into my arms, to see what I could do to revive him once again into the usual Sammy but—

How could I do that?

Without much thought to my actions, and without clearly thinking, I took his arm, firmly this time, so that he wouldn’t let go. “C’mon—”

“N-no.” He said determinedly, timidly. “I’m not going back there.”

I couldn’t help but glare at his stubborn antics. “Why?”

“Because . . .” He trailed off.

There it was. The inevitable look I’d gotten from so many people. It was the same expression one got when they came into contact with my life, with my real life, and not the cliche one you’d read in romance novels. If Sammy were to meet my father, he’d completely break, he’d . . . simply leave me.

I slipped my hand in his when I felt he was shaking. I didn’t want to make things any worse. So, maybe going back wouldn’t be such a good idea.

That was when a plan developed in my head.

“We’ll be late for the next dance.” I suddenly said, watching as he laughed at me.

“It’s a good thing we’re not dancing.” He muttered, looking as pissed off as ever. I couldn’t blame him.

But this made me want to poke at his fires more, to incite a flame, in order to get rid of the rain hanging above his head. “What are you talking about? Of course we’re dancing.”

Sammy’s hand had stopped shaking by then.

That was good.

“Are you doing this to make fun of me?” He asked below his breath.

This made me stop in my tracks. Of course I didn’t want to make the situation any more worse. If mom was still alive, she would’ve killed me for making him cry.

I turned to meet his eyes. The strength I’d seen in them moments ago was replaced by uncertainty again. I hated that so, so much. “Why would I do that?” I questioned, maintaining the tone in my voice. “I may be terrible, Sammy, but I don’t particularly like the sight of people crying.”

He stayed silent.

It was true. Seeing people cry affected me in ways I couldn’t describe. Maybe it was because I’d never seen grandmother cry, nor father. I’d only ever seen my mother cry.

I’d witnessed countless people weeping at my hands, but Sammy . . .

Was it because he’d been with me the longest? Was that why I felt this way?

I held onto his hand tighter, stealing his warmth, his life. It was the first time I’d regarded an individual as living, breathing, feeling.

It wasn’t surprising I felt this way. My family, my ancestors, the history in my blood, this mansion, as you’d know, were all ice cold—

Just like me.

Sammy was . . . what kept me warm.

Even when we were in the midst of those cold people, I couldn’t help but hang onto him, knowing fully well how selfish I was in doing so. There was something wrong with me in the beginning, and what with the festivities, I couldn’t help but notice that maybe we were both out of our elements, enough for Sammy to willingly let me hold him as I was doing at that moment.

We’d been dancing for some time in the middle of the floor, disregarding everyone in our sights, keeping to ourselves, swaying slowly, rethinking over the events that had led us there.

It was then that I noticed how much of a team we’d made. All the arguments, the fights, the times I gave in to his orders, and the times when he’d scold me—it was all a contributing factor to this. Though I believed it separated us with more distrust.

I had to accept that Sammy was no longer a stranger. He also wasn’t a friend either. Friends didn’t fight as we did. And nor did lovers. So what were we?

We were probably just two passing souls that happened to meet and never meet again. I was fine with that, and so was he.

“You don’t need to do this.” He told me.

I brought a steady hand up to his cheek, wiping away a few tears that had sprouted as I stared at him. Was he still confused as to why I was doing this? He truly was clueless.

“What else would I have done to make you stop crying?” I questioned.

Kiss you. I thought, but I brushed the idea away from my mind.

Sammy would never want to kiss me. That was something engrained in my brain. I had to accept that I’d never steal those lips. It annoyed me to imagine anyone else. Why? I was nothing special to him, and nor did I want to be either.

This was simply . . . annoyance. Yeah, just annoyance. That was all.

I grasped his waist, feeling the warmth he exuded. It was a stark contrast from my cold hands, which were entwined in his—soft, small, and warm, as always. We really were polar opposites.

“Nothing else.” He replied softly.

I let him relax in my hold for some time, noticing the way his breathing had stopped being so rapid, and taking extra care that he’d calm down a little more before we’d have to cease our dancing.

Sammy kept turning his face away from me, though he also kept stealing glances as well. Most likely wondering what I was doing.

This was so unlike me, so unlike the person I’d shown him. He must’ve been thoroughly confused, seeing me actually care. I’d be concerned too.

My family didn’t help either. They, along with me, were the root of this problem. Unfortunately, Sammy had been in the crossfires.

That was exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

“My relatives are rather cruel.” I whispered in his ear. “I didn’t want you to see the world I live in.” I admitted, “That’s why I didn’t want you here.”

Sammy looked up at me with watery eyes, glistening under the moonlight shining in through the windows behind us.

It was something I didn’t want to reveal. The situation with my family. Though if it was Sammy, maybe he wouldn’t judge.

“Then get out.” He said, “Leave . . . this place.”

His words struck me.

No one had ever told me I could leave. Sammy . . . was the first among many of the people I didn’t trust to say that. Others usually tried convincing me to stay, to inherit my fortune so they could get their dirty hands on me, on the money.

I didn’t want to distrust him, especially not when his eyes were red and puffy with overexerting himself. How could he be lying to me in such a state? Again, if mom were here, she’d kill me if I made him cry once more.

The feeling of uncertainty overwhelmed me. He’d done it multiple times before, but this . . . this was the toughest out of all of them. It forced me to see him in a different light.

Sammy must’ve seen how troubled I was, “Lucas?”

I returned his anxious gaze, lifting my hand up as I did before to brush at his reddened cheeks. It was like I was looking at something in a museum, something I couldn’t fully understand. Who was he? Who was Sammy really?

“What’s wrong—?” He said.

Carefully, I intertwined our fingers, hoping he couldn’t read my mind as our fingertips touched. I wanted to ask him so many questions. I wanted to know what he meant by telling me to leave this place.

But all I could do was give him my own apology, in my own way, and also a gratefulness, in my own way, for making me, the unaffected, cold, man that I was, slightly warm for once, even if that meant being confused by it all.

I brought his hand up to my lips, kissing his smooth skin, feeling the way his pulse beat beneath my grasp. Yes, he was indeed real. He wasn’t just a toy I could mess around with. It made me want more.

“Thank you.” I said. “Thank you for this dance, Sammy.”

Slowly, he nodded.

I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away from his. Maybe, for once, I’d get to know what that boy was really thinking about. But today, today would not be that day.

And maybe it was the champagne messing with my head, or the fact that Sammy looked too irresistible for me to naturally handle—it didn’t matter.

What mattered was that I needed to give us space.

Abruptly, I released my hold on him, abandoning his eyes to leave in any direction I could find. Because I found that I could’ve stayed there all night, trying to figure him out, trying to figure out why he affected me so much without being aware of it.

I so wanted . . . what? I wanted something, but what exactly? If I turned around to meet his eyes once again, then maybe I’d know.

Sammy most certainly . . . didn’t want me. So why did I want . . . ?

The answer was right there, waiting for me. But—

I didn’t look back.