Mark sat at the bar, waiting for his drink. He had a casual meeting with a business partner—nothing out of the ordinary—until he saw Ryan walk in.
The bar was loud, pulsing with thumping bass and dim, shifting lights.
Ryan leaned back in the booth, one arm slung lazily over the leather as his friends passed around their third round of shots.
“You still seeing that guy from the plant shop?” someone slurred with a grin.
Ryan smirked, swirling the ice in his glass. “Yeah. Kinda.”
“Kinda?” one of them laughed. “You’ve been dating him for, what, months?”
Ryan shrugged. “He’s cute. Soft. Bit of a prude, though.”
The table erupted with laughter.
“Oh shit,” one of them said, pointing his drink. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t—”
Ryan pulled a face, then said—too loudly, “Guy still flinches when I try to touch him past the waist.”
More laughter.
“Must be a virgin,” someone snorted.
“Or saving himself for someone richer,” another added.
Ryan just smiled, tipping his drink back like it was all harmless banter.
No one noticed the tall man at the bar nearby—alone, nursing a whiskey, quiet and still.
Mark didn’t react. Didn’t speak.
He just watched, eyes cold and unreadable, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle twitched.
He already didn’t like Ryan. But now, there was no doubt:
Ryan didn’t deserve Kyle.
Not even a little.
---
The bar was loud, pulsing with thumping bass and dim, shifting lights.
Ryan leaned back in the booth, one arm slung lazily over the leather as his friends passed around their third round of shots.
“You still seeing that guy from the plant shop?” someone slurred with a grin.
Ryan smirked, swirling the ice in his glass. “Yeah. Kinda.”
“Kinda?” one of them laughed. “You’ve been dating him for, what, months?”
Ryan shrugged. “He’s cute. Soft. Bit of a prude, though.”
The table erupted with laughter.
“Oh shit,” one of them said, pointing his drink. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t—”
Ryan pulled a face, then said—too loudly, “Guy still flinches when I try to touch him past the waist.”
More laughter.
“Must be a virgin,” someone snorted.
“Or saving himself for someone richer,” another added.
Ryan just smiled, tipping his drink back like it was all harmless banter.
No one noticed the tall man at the bar nearby—alone, nursing a whiskey, quiet and still.
Mark didn’t react. Didn’t speak.
He just watched, eyes cold and unreadable, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle twitched.
He already didn’t like Ryan. But now, there was no doubt:
Ryan didn’t deserve Kyle.
Not even a little.
---
The One With the Background Check and the Quiet Realization
Penthouse Office — 8:17 PM
Mark Lee never did anything halfway.
Especially not when it came to Kyle Arandia.
He stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled, jaw tight as he stared at the folder on the screen—encrypted, confidential, and delivered via his personal investigator in less than forty-eight hours.
Ryan Alvarez.
Twenty-five. Unemployed. Claims to be freelancing in graphic design.
No registered business. No verifiable projects.
What followed were scattered social media screenshots, threads on private forums, and a few anonymous testimonies—all painting a deeply unpleasant picture.
“He dates sweet-looking guys with money. Dumps them when they stop giving.”
Penthouse Office — 8:17 PM
Mark Lee never did anything halfway.
Especially not when it came to Kyle Arandia.
He stood behind his desk, sleeves rolled, jaw tight as he stared at the folder on the screen—encrypted, confidential, and delivered via his personal investigator in less than forty-eight hours.
Ryan Alvarez.
Twenty-five. Unemployed. Claims to be freelancing in graphic design.
No registered business. No verifiable projects.
What followed were scattered social media screenshots, threads on private forums, and a few anonymous testimonies—all painting a deeply unpleasant picture.
“He dates sweet-looking guys with money. Dumps them when they stop giving.”
“Known for Date Betting.”
“Manipulative. Has anger issues. Violent. Once locked his ex in a bathroom during a fight.”
“Uses guilt like a weapon. Tells sob stories to make people feel sorry for him.”
Mark clenched the edge of the desk until his knuckles whitened.
This man—this parasite—was the one Kyle kept forgiving.
The thought made Mark’s vision blur with heat.
He wanted to storm into Green Sprout Haven that instant. Tell Kyle everything. Pull him into his arms. Protect him. Never let Ryan touch him again.
But he didn’t.
Because Kyle still didn’t choose him.
So Mark sat back, opened a blank document, and began typing a report.
Kyle Arandia – Personal Risk Note:
Subject Ryan Alvarez displays multiple red flags.
Recommend observation only. Intervention will cause distress.
Wait for Subject’s emotional clarity.
He paused.
Then he added:
Contingency Plan: Immediate extraction if safety compromised.
---
Green Sprout Haven — the next morning
Kyle hadn’t slept well. His thoughts had been swirling since Ryan’s apology.
He was used to apologizing. Used to accepting apologies too. To holding things in. To giving the benefit of the doubt even when his gut clenched.
But lately... something had shifted.
And that shift had a name.
Mark Lee.
Mark, who always came with food but never expectations.
Mark, who never tried to touch him without permission. Who didn’t flirt or tease or even compliment him the way other guys did—yet still somehow made Kyle feel seen. Important.
And when he looked back on last night—when Mark simply sat beside him, quiet and steady—it was the first time in weeks he’d felt like he didn’t have to earn the right to breathe.
He was still sorting cacti by sunlight rating when the door opened.
Kyle looked up, expecting a customer.
But it was Mark, again.
Today in a more casual ensemble—still pristine, but in soft colors. Holding a paper bag.
“Kyle,” he greeted, stepping inside gently. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Kyle shook his head. “Not at all.”
Mark walked over and set the bag down. “I passed by that Vietnamese place you like. Got you the lemongrass tofu.”
Kyle blinked. “You remembered?”
“You said it once. In passing,” Mark said.
Kyle didn’t know what to say to that.
Mark opened the bag for him but didn’t move closer. “I also brought ointment. For your hands. The aloe gel last time didn’t seem to work.”
Kyle stared at him.
Quiet. Calm. Consistent.
He remembered how Ryan once brought a bottle of lotion, tossed it to him, and said, “You should fix those cracks. They look gross.”
Mark held up the ointment without touching him. “Only if you want it.”
Kyle took it slowly. “Thanks. Really.”
Mark nodded.
Something in Kyle’s chest shifted again.
He sat down with the food, suddenly overwhelmed. “Can I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you keep coming here?”
Mark didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said quietly, “Because I like the way you talk to your plants.”
Kyle blinked. “What?”
“You’re gentle,” Mark continued, voice low. “You speak to things like they deserve kindness. Even the ones with thorns.”
Kyle stared, mouth slightly parted.
Mark looked at him. “And I guess... I wanted to know what it felt like. To be spoken to that way.”
It struck Kyle like a silent bell.
Ryan always made him feel like he had to earn space.
Mark just made him feel like he deserved it.
And Kyle didn’t know what to do with that feeling.
---
Later That Night…
Ray 🌶️
Update me. Did Mr. Tycoon show up again?
Dave 🚢
Mark hasn’t killed Ryan yet. That’s a win.
Ray 🌶️
My bestfriend is still emotionally loyal to a manipulative walking red flag.
But I saw it.
The look.
Kyle’s heart is wobbling.
Dave 🚢
All it needs is one more act of care and a push.
Mark’s gonna become that soft obsession Kyle didn’t even know he was craving.
Ray 🌶️
When he chooses him, I’m framing it. Wedding invite better have succulents.
“Manipulative. Has anger issues. Violent. Once locked his ex in a bathroom during a fight.”
“Uses guilt like a weapon. Tells sob stories to make people feel sorry for him.”
Mark clenched the edge of the desk until his knuckles whitened.
This man—this parasite—was the one Kyle kept forgiving.
The thought made Mark’s vision blur with heat.
He wanted to storm into Green Sprout Haven that instant. Tell Kyle everything. Pull him into his arms. Protect him. Never let Ryan touch him again.
But he didn’t.
Because Kyle still didn’t choose him.
So Mark sat back, opened a blank document, and began typing a report.
Kyle Arandia – Personal Risk Note:
Subject Ryan Alvarez displays multiple red flags.
Recommend observation only. Intervention will cause distress.
Wait for Subject’s emotional clarity.
He paused.
Then he added:
Contingency Plan: Immediate extraction if safety compromised.
---
Green Sprout Haven — the next morning
Kyle hadn’t slept well. His thoughts had been swirling since Ryan’s apology.
He was used to apologizing. Used to accepting apologies too. To holding things in. To giving the benefit of the doubt even when his gut clenched.
But lately... something had shifted.
And that shift had a name.
Mark Lee.
Mark, who always came with food but never expectations.
Mark, who never tried to touch him without permission. Who didn’t flirt or tease or even compliment him the way other guys did—yet still somehow made Kyle feel seen. Important.
And when he looked back on last night—when Mark simply sat beside him, quiet and steady—it was the first time in weeks he’d felt like he didn’t have to earn the right to breathe.
He was still sorting cacti by sunlight rating when the door opened.
Kyle looked up, expecting a customer.
But it was Mark, again.
Today in a more casual ensemble—still pristine, but in soft colors. Holding a paper bag.
“Kyle,” he greeted, stepping inside gently. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Kyle shook his head. “Not at all.”
Mark walked over and set the bag down. “I passed by that Vietnamese place you like. Got you the lemongrass tofu.”
Kyle blinked. “You remembered?”
“You said it once. In passing,” Mark said.
Kyle didn’t know what to say to that.
Mark opened the bag for him but didn’t move closer. “I also brought ointment. For your hands. The aloe gel last time didn’t seem to work.”
Kyle stared at him.
Quiet. Calm. Consistent.
He remembered how Ryan once brought a bottle of lotion, tossed it to him, and said, “You should fix those cracks. They look gross.”
Mark held up the ointment without touching him. “Only if you want it.”
Kyle took it slowly. “Thanks. Really.”
Mark nodded.
Something in Kyle’s chest shifted again.
He sat down with the food, suddenly overwhelmed. “Can I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you keep coming here?”
Mark didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said quietly, “Because I like the way you talk to your plants.”
Kyle blinked. “What?”
“You’re gentle,” Mark continued, voice low. “You speak to things like they deserve kindness. Even the ones with thorns.”
Kyle stared, mouth slightly parted.
Mark looked at him. “And I guess... I wanted to know what it felt like. To be spoken to that way.”
It struck Kyle like a silent bell.
Ryan always made him feel like he had to earn space.
Mark just made him feel like he deserved it.
And Kyle didn’t know what to do with that feeling.
---
Later That Night…
Ray 🌶️
Update me. Did Mr. Tycoon show up again?
Dave 🚢
Mark hasn’t killed Ryan yet. That’s a win.
Ray 🌶️
My bestfriend is still emotionally loyal to a manipulative walking red flag.
But I saw it.
The look.
Kyle’s heart is wobbling.
Dave 🚢
All it needs is one more act of care and a push.
Mark’s gonna become that soft obsession Kyle didn’t even know he was craving.
Ray 🌶️
When he chooses him, I’m framing it. Wedding invite better have succulents.
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