𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸!

ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ↴↴↴

"I'm leaving." Tristan's voice cut through the morning quiet as he bent down to lace his shoes. Renee leaned against the doorframe, his white robe hanging loose around his frame, watching every deliberate movement.

"Okay." The word came out flat, neutral—exactly how Renee wanted it to sound. Don't let him see that you want him to stay.

Tristan straightened and began patting his pockets, scanning the room with growing frustration. "Looking for this?" Renee lifted a silver watch, dangling it from his fingers.

Tristan's face lit up. "Yeah, oh my God, where did you find it? I've been going crazy looking for this thing." He reached out eagerly, their fingers brushing as he took the watch.

He's been here for ten minutes and already losing his mind over a watch, Renee thought, rolling his eyes. "You only just started looking." He crossed his arms, trying to ignore how the brief contact had sent electricity up his arm.

Tristan grinned as he fastened the watch around his wrist. "Yeah, I know, but still—you know how frustrating it is when you can't find something. Thanks, Bug." He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Renee's cheek.

The warmth of Tristan's lips against his skin sent a jolt through Renee's entire body. Shit, shit, shit. He jerked away, his heart hammering. "Don't do that shit again, dude. Don't do that again." He pointed his index finger at Tristan, trying to mask the tremor in his voice.

Tristan laughed, clearly delighted by his reaction. "Why?"

Because it makes me want things I can't have. "Just don't do that shit again."

"Okay—wait, are you blushing? Oh my God, is Renee Daniels blushing?" Tristan's voice was filled with amused surprise.

"N-no, I-I..." Renee cursed his pale complexion, cursed the way heat flooded his cheeks. This is Tristan's fault. I never blush. This has never happened before. He wished desperately for Tristan's rich brown skin that would hide this embarrassing betrayal of his body.

Renee covered his face with his hands, but Tristan was already moving closer, trying to pry his hands away. Renee stepped back, creating distance.

"Come on, let me see," Tristan coaxed, advancing.

"Go away. Aren't you supposed to be going home? Just go." Renee pointed toward the door while patting his burning cheek with his free hand.

Before he could react, Tristan spun him around and captured both his wrists, preventing him from hiding. When Tristan saw what he was looking for, he burst into laughter. "Oh my God, you are blushing. Your cheeks are so pink. Aww, baby bug, you look so fucking cute right now."

Cute. The word hit Renee like a physical blow. He wasn't cute—he was dangerous, he was sharp edges and careful control. "Shut the fuck up." He seethed, raising his knee toward Tristan's crotch.

Tristan immediately released his hands and jumped back. "No, no, you wouldn't dare." He placed protective hands over himself.

"Wanna try me?" Cute Renee had vanished, replaced by the version of himself he knew how to be—angry, untouchable.

"Nah, I think I'm leaving." Tristan grabbed his jacket, but his phone rang before he could put it on.

He picked it up from the bed, and Renee watched his face transform—shock, then something that looked dangerously like hope.

"Who is that?" Renee moved closer, though every instinct told him he didn't want to know.

Tristan looked at him, and that one word fell between them like a stone into still water. "Nicole."

Nicole. Renee's heart plummeted into his stomach. Why does hearing her name feel like being gutted?

"O-oh. Why is she calling?" He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the sudden tightness in his throat.

"I think she changed her mind. Maybe she wants to get back with me—God knows I want her back." Tristan's smile was radiant as he answered the call.

God knows I want her back. The words hit Renee like a physical assault. Of course he does. Of course.

"Hey," Tristan said into the phone, his voice soft in a way it never was with Renee anymore.

"Hi Tristan, I was thinking if we could, you know, talk? Look, I'm sorry for overreacting. I just... can we talk?"

Renee could hear every word through the phone's speaker. Nicole's voice was sweet, apologetic—everything Renee could never be.

She's calling to take him back, Renee realized with sick certainty. And he's going to say yes.

Tristan took a moment to answer, and Renee could see the happiness radiating from him. "Um, yeah, sure, Nicky. I'm glad you called. So when and where do you want to talk?"

Nicky. Renee scoffed internally. He calls me Bug like I'm some annoying insect, but she gets Nicky. Sweet, perfect Nicky. The irrationality of his anger didn't make it any less consuming.

"Your house? Today?" Nicole's voice carried a smile that Renee could practically see.

"My house?" Tristan asked, and Renee nearly choked.

If she goes to his house, they'll do more than talk. The thought made him physically ill. But what say do I have? What right?

"Yes," Nicole replied.

"Okay."

"See you."

"Okay, bye."

The call ended, and Tristan shoved his phone into his pocket, turning to Renee with a grin that could have powered the entire building.

"So you're going now?" Renee tried to keep his voice casual, but it came out wrong—too tight, too careful.

"Of course! Uh... where's my key?" Tristan looked around frantically.

"It's on the dresser." Of course I know where your things are. I notice everything about you, you oblivious asshole.

"How come you know where my things are?" Tristan asked with amusement.

Renee just shrugged. Because I pay attention to you in ways I shouldn't.

Tristan retrieved his keys and shrugged on his jacket, running his hands through his hair to tame it. Then he walked slowly toward Renee, who stood shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

"How do I look?" Tristan asked.

Like everything I want and can't have. "Horrible." Renee crossed his arms and looked away.

Tristan grinned, then leaned in and quickly pressed another kiss to Renee's cheek before bolting for the door.

"Fucking bastard," Renee cursed under his breath, touching his cheek. He rubbed gently, as if he could make the kiss sink into his skin and stay there forever. A smile tugged at his lips despite everything.

When he sat on the bed, he winced. His ass was still sore from their night together, still marked with evidence of what they'd shared. That idiot did a number on me. The memory should have been good, but thinking about Tristan made him remember where Tristan was going, and his hands clenched into fists around the bedsheets.

Why am I angry? I shouldn't be angry.

Nicole was Tristan's ex-girlfriend. They'd broken up two months ago over a misunderstanding that Nicole had blown out of proportion. She'd ended things, and Tristan had come to Renee that night—drunk, heartbroken, vulnerable in a way Renee had never seen before.

Tristan had confessed how alone he felt, and Renee—who had never known how to handle emotions, his own or anyone else's—had done the only thing he could think of. He'd offered his body as comfort, and that night they'd had sex for the first time in two years.

Three years. Since Tristan had started dating Nicole, they'd kept their hands off each other. But that night had broken something open between them, and they'd been falling into bed together ever since.

The deal was simple, Renee reminded himself. When one of us finds someone else, this stops. When Tristan had first brought Nicole home and introduced her as his girlfriend, Renee hadn't felt angry. He hadn't wanted to beat Tristan senseless for loving someone else.

So why does it hurt now? Why does the thought of losing this—losing him—feel like dying?

He pulled at his hair in frustration, trying to understand the tangle of emotions choking him.

His phone vibrated. He grabbed it without looking at the caller ID. "What?" he snapped.

"Watch that tone with me, Renee Henry Daniels."

Shit. His mother's voice could cut through steel when she wanted it to.

"Sorry, Mom..." His anger evaporated instantly.

"What's wrong with you, Renee? Why did you sound so angry? Did someone piss you off?"

"No, I just woke up." The lie came easily.

"Mmm. I get it—you're always grumpy when you wake up. But why would you be waking up at this hour? Have you started lazing around? Hold on, don't tell me you have girls in that bed... Jesus, Renee, when are you going to change? And—"

Here we go. When his mother started like this, she never stopped. "Mom, Mom, please stop. It's not like that. I'm not with anyone. I didn't go to work today because—"

"Are you sick?" Her voice immediately softened with worry.

"I'm fine. I didn't go because I didn't feel like it. Trust me, I'm fine, Mom."

"Okay. Since you're jobless for now, why don't you come for a visit? You and your brother."

Renee cringed at the word brother. Tristan wasn't his brother—he was his stepbrother. I can't have it in my head that I've been fucking my brother. Christ.

"You two don't visit anymore. It's like you've forgotten where you came from. I want to spend time with my sons. Naomi misses you both. Why don't you all come visit?"

Renee sighed. "Okay, expect me tomorrow or the next day."

"What about Tristan?"

"Haven't you spoken to him?" He lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"No, I've tried reaching him several times, but he won't take my calls. Do you know why?"

He's probably balls deep in Nicole by now.

"No, I don't," he said instead, rubbing his temple as a headache began to surface.

After extracting promises that he'd talk to Tristan about visiting, his mother hung up on him mid-goodbye.

Note to self: never hang up on Mom.

He tried calling Tristan, but it rang and rang without an answer.

Of course he's not answering. He's busy.

Renee jumped up and threw on clothes—jeans, a black shirt, his Jordans. He grabbed his keys and headed for Tristan's house, telling himself he was just delivering their mother's message. That's all this is.

When he arrived, he parked beside an unfamiliar car. She's still here. His stomach clenched.

The front door opened before he could knock, and there they were—Tristan and Nicole, stepping out together, smiling at each other like they shared secrets.

When they noticed him, their smiles grew even brighter.

"Hey, Renee." Nicole walked up to him. "How are you doing?"

He forced a smile. "I'm good. And you?"

"Great!" She checked her watch. "Shit, I gotta go now. Duty calls." She kissed Tristan on the lips—a quick, casual kiss that spoke of familiarity and claimed territory.

She's marking what's hers.

"Okay, stay safe," Tristan called as she walked to her car.

"I will. Bye!" She drove away, leaving the scent of her perfume hanging in the air.

Renee walked into the house, and the smell hit him immediately—Tristan's cologne mixed with Nicole's perfume. I hate it.

"What was that?" Tristan asked as they entered the kitchen.

"What?"

"The face you made out there." Tristan put his hands on his hips.

Renee grabbed four packets of instant noodles from the cupboard, buying time. He noticed. "What face? I didn't make any face."

"You seemed unhappy. Not just that—when Nicole called at your place, your whole demeanor changed. What's wrong?"

Tristan moved closer, studying him with those perceptive eyes. Even with Tristan being two inches taller, Renee felt exposed under his gaze.

What do I think? I think I'm losing my mind. I think I want to punch something. Hard.

"What do you think?" he deflected, forcing a smile.

"I don't know, you just—"

Renee nudged him with his elbow. "You're overthinking it, Tristan. Cut it out. So are you two back together?"

Please say no. Please.

"I suppose..." Tristan trailed off, playing with the rubber fruit on the kitchen island.

"You suppose?" Renee stopped cutting vegetables. That's not a yes.

"Yeah, well, we talked about everything, cleared up the misunderstandings. She wants us to go back to dating."

She wants. But what do you want? "Do you want to date her again?"

Please say no.

"Yeah." Tristan nodded.

Of course. "Oh. Oh." Renee went back to cutting vegetables, the knife moving mechanically. "Good for you."

It's not good. Nothing about this is good.

He didn't realize he was cutting frantically until Tristan's warm hand covered his. The contact made him close his eyes. I want this hand on me forever.

What's wrong with me?

"Renee, cut it slow. You'll hurt yourself going that fast."

Renee swallowed the bitterness coating his throat and forced himself to slow down.

"You do know what that means for us, right?" Tristan's voice was careful, probing.

Us. There is no us. There never was.

"What?"

"Nicole and me. You and me." Tristan clarified, and the words hung between them like a death sentence.

Renee's throat constricted. "Yeah, I know."

We're over. Whatever this was, it's over.

The thought made him want to cry, but Renee didn't cry. He hadn't cried when his father died, not at the funeral, not when he was alone. The only time had been a year later, standing at his father's grave in the rain, finally letting thirteen years of grief pour out of him.

That was the last time.

Renee didn't know how to handle emotions, so he buried them. He kept everything locked away because vulnerability was weakness, and his father had taught him to be strong, to be a man, to never show the cracks.

But this feeling is going to kill me.

The worst part was that Tristan was his stepbrother. These feelings were wrong on every level. Maybe it was just the sex he'd miss—God knows he'd gotten addicted to having Tristan in his bed. The past two months had been the best of his life, not just the physical part but everything else. The way they talked and laughed, the easy companionship, the way Tristan made him feel less alone in the world.

Why did Nicole have to come back?

"Renee... can I help you?" Tristan's voice broke through his spiral.

"No, I don't need help. I don't want you to mess up my lunch." Renee shot him a look that could have stripped paint.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, back off."

"Those are my noodles, you know."

"I could cook your balls with them, you know?" Renee glared at him.

Tristan raised his hands in surrender and stepped back. "Whoa, okay." He retreated to the living room. "Damn, you're brutal."

"Did you say something?" Renee yelled.

"No, I didn't," Tristan called back, settling on the couch and flipping through channels.

He picked up his phone and unlocked it. His eyes widened at whatever he saw on the screen.

"What the fuck?"

↬❦↫

ℬ𝓎𝑒

∂σи'т fσяgєт тσ νσтє, ¢σммєит, αи∂ ѕнαяє.

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑠.