The heat barely lasted three days, the last half dozen hours mild enough to fuck only if they wanted to.

It broke completely as they watched something on the TV, all of them tangled up on the couch.

Jamie stretched against them, grinning. “Well, that was easy.”

Randy beamed at him. “You feel good?”

“I feel great. That was…”

Killian watched as Randy squeezed Jamie tightly, laughing into Jamie’s mouth as they kissed. Killian sat up, thankful that he’d put on some underwear before they moved to the living room.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Killian said when the couple broke apart.

They both turned to look at him, smiles lighting up their faces. “This is awesome,” Jamie cheered.

Killian smiled back, genuinely glad that Jamie was going to be okay, even if it meant… “Guess you guys don’t need me anymore, huh?”

Jamie and Randy’s expressions froze on their faces oddly, as though they hadn’t expected that, but they must have talked about it, planned for it. Maybe not so soon, but Killian had come to the realisation that he just couldn’t fucking do this again. Couldn’t smile and kiss them and feel wanted without being worthy of any of it.

Because all this? It wasn’t reality. It was just a nice fantasy the three of them had cooked up.

“I mean…” Jamie trailed off.

Killian shrugged. “I know the sessions are expensive, and you’re not paying for much now.”

They just stared at him as if he wasn’t making any sense. They said nothing, though, barely moving.

Killian felt himself babbling, desperate to fill the space. “It’s been great hanging with you guys, though. Fuck yes to this treatment, huh? You guys must be relieved to get your bed to yourself.” A weird laugh left his mouth.

There was just…silence. Jamie and Randy kept looking at him and Killian kept just sitting there, feeling worse and worse, wanting to curl up and disappear so he didn’t have to be perceived anymore.

“Okay, well,” Killian choked out. “I should go. I’ll tell the agency what time I left so they don’t charge you for the extra hours.”

He stood up, Jamie and Randy finally moving, Jamie reaching up to stop him. “Wait, Killian.”

Killian paused, looking down at them, trying to breathe through the strange feeling sloshing inside him. Like seasickness and longing, a boat drifting away from land.

“Yeah?” Killian asked.

Jamie just stared at him, opening and closing his mouth. “We…” he started, but it went nowhere.

Killian nodded. “It’s all good. You need me for anything else?”

Jamie deflated against Randy, turning away. “You can go if you want to.”

What I want has nothing to do with this, Killian thought even as he nodded.

He walked to the bedroom, putting his clothes on numbly.

Sometimes, doing the right thing felt like this—like he was drowning, like he was lost. There was no point in dragging out something that was going to break his heart eventually.

This wasn’t where he belonged.

-----

Usually, Killian could smile and nod whenever Connor started in on his ‘why can’t we be boyfriends?’ monologue. Killian would flutter his eyelashes and sidle up to him and defuse the situation easily.

Now, though, lying on the bed with sweat sticky on his skin, he felt a million miles away.

“Like, our chemistry is off the charts. It’s practically a crime against nature not to be together, don’t you think?” Connor said, stroking Killian’s cheek.

Killian blinked at him slowly, mind totally blank. Luckily, Connor didn’t seem to need any input from him.

“We should grab dinner. No agency in the way, no money. We could be something real. I’ll book Summernight—the hottest restaurant in the village. You wear that blue suit of yours. How does Friday sound? Come on, baby, we could—”

“Stop.” The word was out of Killian’s mouth before he realised what he was doing.

Connor’s hand froze as he frowned at him with a mildly confused expression. “What?”

“Just…stop.” Killian could fucking feel it happen like he was watching it from far away—a dam cracking, water roaring to get out.

“What do you mean, stop? Stop what?”

“Stop talking.” Killian sat up, rolling out of bed, glad his discarded clothes were close by. His heart was pounding, mouth dry. “I don’t want to go to dinner with you. We don’t have good chemistry. I’m here because you’ve paid me to be here, and it’s rude to assume more because of it.”

Connor had straightened up too, confusion turning into anger. “So all of that was a lie? Wow. And here I thought you were more than a slut begging to be fucked.”

Killian pulled his sweater over his head, glaring at Connor. “I’m a sex worker you paid to fuck. The only one begging here is you.”

Killian didn’t wait for a response, practically running to the door, shoving his feet into his shoes and yanking his coat out of the hallway closet.

Connor’s apartment was way too high up to take the stairs, but he ran down a couple of floors until he didn’t feel like he was about to throw up, getting into the elevator from there.

Connor was going to call the agency and complain. With a shock to the system, Killian realised he didn’t even care. He didn’t want to do this anymore. Wanted to stop feeling like this, wanted to stop letting people touch him when he didn’t want to be touched, and degrade him when he didn’t want to be degraded, and ask things of him he didn’t want to give.

He burst out of the building’s front door and into the frozen Manhattan air, shocking his body into alertness. He looked around, watching the people bundled up in coats walk past. The idea of navigating the subway right then seemed impossible.

He called an Uber, selecting an address from his favourites, not even fully processing it was his sister’s until he was already there.