Dylan Garcia

By Wednesday night, I was unraveling.

The days had crawled by without a single word from Charles. No sharp texts. No commanding tone ordering me into place. Not even the clipped come-over messages that used to make me burn with equal parts dread and anticipation. Heck, there was no new upload on his channel as well. It was maddening.

I told myself I should be relieved. I told myself I’d wanted this distance, that I’d drawn the line at the grocery store and demanded he know his place. And yet, every night I came home to my apartment and sank into my bed, the silence pressed down harder than his hands ever had.

I couldn’t stop replaying our confrontation. The way his jaw tightened, the low rumble of his voice when he said he’d know his place. It should have felt like victory. Instead, it felt like punishment.

At the office, he’d been no different, cool, precise, professional. He gave me tasks, reviewed reports, and addressed me like any other employee. No spark in his gaze, no hidden heat threading beneath his words. The Charles I knew outside those walls was gone, replaced by a man who could look at me and not see me.

By the third night, I almost broke. My thumb hovered over his name on my phone, the glowing screen the only light in the room. I nearly typed out a single word, Charles, but stopped myself. My pride was a cruel leash, yanking me back before I could give in.

I tossed the phone aside, cursing under my breath. “You dumbass, you wanted this.”

The knock on my door came like a gunshot. Sharp, deliberate, impossible to mistake.

My breath caught. No one visited me this late. No one except—

I froze in the doorway, staring at the tall shadow leaning casually against the frame.

Charles.

His expression was unreadable, jaw set tight, eyes burning green even in the dim light of the hall. He wasn’t in the usual sharp suits I’d seen him in these last few days. Instead, a dark hoodie clung to his frame, sleeves shoved up, his presence raw, unpolished, dangerous.

I swallowed hard. “What are you—”

“Three days.” His voice was gravel, low, and vibrating in my chest. “Three fucking days, Dylan. You think I didn’t notice you waiting for me to break first?”

My lips parted, but no words came out. He stepped closer, so close that his scent—clean, sharp, grounding- hit me like a memory I’d been starving for.

“You think I don’t know you’ve been checking your phone every five minutes?” he continued, tone a razor between mockery and truth. “That you’ve been lying in bed restless, aching, wishing I’d come back?”

Heat rushed to my face. “I-I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His hand shot up, not to touch, but to brace against the doorframe above my head, caging me in. His body radiated heat, so close I had to tilt my chin just to meet his eyes. 

“You wanted space, Dylan. You wanted me to ‘know my place.’ So tell me—” His voice dipped lower, a dangerous rumble. “How’s that working out for you?”

My chest heaved, words strangled in my throat. Every part of me screamed to push him back, to shove the control in his face. But underneath that, buried and raw, was the truth: I had missed him. Craved him. Needed him in a way that scared me.

“I…” My voice cracked, betraying me. “I hate you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, not into a smile but something darker, satisfied. “No. You hate how much you want me.”

The silence between us thrummed with tension, every nerve in my body on edge. His presence was suffocating, intoxicating, and I hated how much I didn’t want him to leave.

Finally, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You’ve had your space, Dylan. Now I’m done waiting. Either tell me to walk away for good, or let me in.”

My fingers clenched tight around the doorframe. The choice hung heavy, thick in the air. My pride screamed at me to send him away. But my body trembled with need, my chest tight with the ache of missing him.

Images from the last three days flashed in my mind, empty nights, cold sheets, the way he passed me in the office without even looking. The silence that was supposed to free me had only chained me deeper.

I swallowed hard, breath shuddering out. “My apartment… Now.”

His eyes flickered, a sharp gleam breaking through his controlled mask. He pushed the door closed behind him with the kind of finality that told me this wasn’t going to end quietly.

And for the first time in days, the silence finally broke.