Donovan slouched into the plush booth, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the table as his friends fell into their usual roles—lounging, chatting, and not sparing a second thought for him. It was no surprise, really. He knew why they brought him out tonight. Not for his sparkling personality or social prowess, but because he was the designated driver.

It was a role he played well, though it left him feeling more like a spectator than a participant. He had hoped that night would be different, that the music and lights would drown out the anxiety creeping up on him, now that exams were over. 

He’d made up his mind—he was done obsessing over the possibility that Agatha was dating Connor. His anxiety had convinced him there was something between them, but after days of watching from the shadows, he had realized it was just his mind playing tricks. He couldn’t keep following her, couldn’t keep torturing himself. He had gone there to forget, to relax. But none of that seemed to matter anymore when the club’s strobe lights hit him, and there, across the room, was Connor. 

Donovan’s pulse quickened, his gaze snapping toward him like a magnet. His mind buzzed with the familiar excitement, that pull, the obsession that had once been consumed flickering back to life. Connor’s laughter, light and carefree, danced through the air, like a melody Donovan could never get enough of. The way his eyes crinkled with amusement, the effortless grace of his movements—everything about him was intoxicating. It was like he had always been there, just waiting for Donovan to look up and notice.

His breath hitched, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t even try to stop it. He couldn’t. The sight of Connor, so effortlessly charming in his crisp, sharp outfit, was like a balm to Donovan’s restless mind. 

It didn’t matter that he was awkwardly parked at the edge of the table, forgotten by his own friends. They always did this. Always left him behind. He didn’t even drink, and they knew it. All he could do was watch from the sidelines. He had gotten used to it.

But Connor… Connor had always been different. Donovan’s gaze never strayed from him, his eyes tracing the lines of his face, the way he held his drink with such casual elegance. His heart skipped a beat every time Connor’s eyes flicked around the room, a light in them that made his pulse stutter. That was the thing about Connor, wasn’t it? His presence was magnetic, and Donovan found himself caught in it, entranced by everything he was. 

He hadn’t realized how hard it was to look away until a stupid plant started to creep into his line of sight. Donovan cursed quietly to himself. Seriously? A plant? Of all the things, now there was a fucking plant blocking his view, and the moment felt ruined. But even that didn’t stop him from straining his neck to get another look, a silent plea in his chest. His neck wasn’t important, not when Connor was right there, glowing under the dim lights, looking like someone from another world. 

Donovan could barely believe he had the audacity to sit there and stare, to be so completely entranced by his crush, when he couldn’t even muster the courage to talk to him. He didn’t belong in his world, not really.

But then Connor laughed again, and Donovan’s whole body went stiff. It wasn’t a laugh that just filled the room—it lit up his chest, too. His anxiety, which had once screamed at him, faded into something soft. Something that felt like a lull. Donovan leaned forward, his eyes unable to tear themselves away, like he was drawn in by some invisible force. That laugh. It was the sound that always made his heart flutter, the one that seemed to remind him everything would be okay, even if the rest of his life felt like it was spinning out of control.

It wasn’t until Connor’s attention shifted elsewhere that Donovan finally realized something had changed. Someone had joined their table. He finally broke his stare, eyes flicking up just in time to see Connor glance over his shoulder, a spark of interest lighting his features. There was someone new, who had stepped into the spotlight, making Donovan’s chest tighten.

He watched Agatha and the stranger exchange words, his heart hammering in his chest as his mind scrambled to make sense of it all. What was going on? Who was this guy? Was he there to ruin everything? Did he want something from Connor, his perfect, untainted crush? 

No, wait, was he flirting with Agatha? The thought was like a punch to his gut, and for a split second, Donovan’s breath caught in his throat. It didn’t make sense. Why was Agatha suddenly leaving with him? She had to be hiding something, she always rejected anyone who tried to flirt with her at the café. 

Donovan’s stomach twisted as his anxiety clawed back to life. Maybe... maybe she wasn’t just leaving with this stranger. Maybe she was cheating on Connor. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth, and before he could stop himself, Donovan was on his feet, determined to find out.

As Donovan watched, Agatha and the stranger moved through the club with ease. They didn’t linger at the bar or stop to dance—they drifted through the crowd like they belonged there, cutting through the sea of bodies effortlessly. Koray’s hand brushed against Agatha’s arm once, a casual touch, but Donovan’s stomach twisted at the sight. They didn’t look nervous, or tense. They looked familiar—comfortable. Like they had done this before.

Donovan kept his eyes on them as they moved toward the exit. Agatha’s gaze flicked over her shoulder just once—not worried, exactly, but aware. Like she knew someone might be watching. Donovan froze, convinced she had spotted him, but her eyes kept moving, scanning the crowd before she turned back to her conversation. She didn’t even seem to have noticed him.

Donovan kept his distance, careful not to make them feel uncomfortable or come off like a creepy stalker. He was just doing his duty, making sure his beloved's honor was protected. 

They walked out from The Star Fall, the night sky above them studded with stars, a gorgeous moon casting its glow over the streets. Normally, Donovan would’ve loved to just stop and lose himself in the stars, letting the vastness of the sky swallow him whole. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight, he had a job to do.

He kept a low profile, slipping behind light poles, bushes, anything that might shield him from view. The streets were eerily quiet, almost too peaceful for a city like theirs.

He found himself appreciating the quiet, the soft sound of footsteps on the pavement, until they led him to an old warehouse. Donovan blinked in confusion. It was... strange. Why there? What was Agatha doing with the stranger in a place like that? Still, he needed to be sure. He had to know if the blonde had a significant other or if she was cheating on his beloved.

So, he followed them inside. Little did he know, one small slip—one moment of distraction from Agatha—would lead him right into something far more dangerous than he’d ever expected. The truth he was about to uncover would set him on a path he wasn’t prepared for, one that would hurtle him toward doom, even if he couldn’t see it yet.

Um, what was that?

Agatha paused mid-step, her brow furrowing. Someone was crying. Not again. Why did this always happen? Some drunk idiot from the club stumbling too far into the warehouse was practically routine by now. They really needed to move their house of operations farther away from the Star Fall. 

Huffing in frustration, she shot Caelus a look and gestured toward the sound. "Go scare them off," she muttered, forcing her most wicked smile.

Caelus grinned back, cracking his knuckles. But when Agatha peeked around the corner to watch the show, her stomach turned to ice. Donovan. Her breath caught. Her mind scrambled. How had he followed her? Why? 

Panic swelled in her chest, a sharp and unwelcome pressure. He knew too much. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He shouldn’t even remember being here the first time. That memory wipe was supposed to stick.

For a second, Agatha froze, her pulse hammering in her ears. She swallowed hard, pushing down the storm brewing inside her. No. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure. Not now. She needed to stay calm, to think. Control the situation, before it spiraled.

"Hey," she called, stepping out of the shadows, her voice even but firm. "Aren’t you a usual at the café I work at? Donovan, right?"