Nico sat on his living room sofa, knees pulled to his chest, staring blankly at the wall. The party at Yani's was over, but the adrenaline had nowhere to go now that Ben was gone.

Jamie sat next to Nico, watching him with a frustrated expression. "So are you going to talk about it?"

"He left because of me," Nico whispered. "Because of... him."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jamie said. "Nico, you stood there and let that guy practically climb you in front of everyone. What did you expect Ben to do?"

"I don't know!" Nico's voice cracked as he buried his head in his hands. "I just... shut down. That's on me."

Jamie sighed, his frustration softening. "Look, freaking out when you kissed was a bad move. Letting that happen at the party was a really bad move."

"I have to text him." Nico sat up, the paralysis replaced by a desperate need to fix it. "I have to apologize."

Nico pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen seemed brighter than usual in the dim room. His thumbs felt heavy as he opened the thread with Ben. Every excuse he drafted felt like a lie. Finally, he stripped it back to the bare minimum.

Hey. I'm so sorry about tonight. Can we talk?

He hit send.

The status changed to Delivered instantly. A few seconds later, it changed again.

Read.

The screen stayed still. Only the stark, silent confirmation that Ben had seen the message and chosen not to engage.

"Well?" Jamie asked.

"He read it," Nico whispered, the words tasting like ash. "He’s not replying."

Jamie leaned back into the cushions. "Give him time. He's probably hurt. And confused. And maybe a little bit jealous, which, for the record, is a good sign if you don't screw it up further."

Nico stared at the phone, as if sheer willpower could force a response out of the digital void.

"Okay," Jamie announced, standing up abruptly. "This energy is depressing, and I refuse to wallow in second-hand heartbreak on a Saturday night."

"It's almost 1 am," Nico said.

"And?" Jamie pulled out his phone, tapping the Scratchr icon. "I need a distraction. Since you're emotionally unavailable, I'm going to find someone who is emotionally non-existent but physically very present."

He started scrolling, face illuminated by the cold blue light. Headless torso. Empty profile. Massage therapist. Until his thumb paused. "Well, hello there."

He turned the screen to show Nico. The profile photo was polished, almost sterile. The guy looked like he belonged in a catalogue for expensive furniture. Blond hair perfectly styled, thin metal glasses.

Jamie grinned. "He looks like he has a spreadsheet for his skincare routine. I need that kind of structure in my life right now."

He grabbed his keys. "Don't wait up."

***

Jamie was standing in a quiet street. He checked his reflection in a darkened shop window, adjusting his baseball cap.

A door buzzed open down the block, and the blond guy stepped out. He looked exactly like in his photos: impressive and slightly unnerving. He wore a crisply ironed polo shirt, and his posture was so impeccable it made Jamie want to slouch just to balance out the universe.

"You're late," the guy said. His voice was cool, lacking any inflection.

"Adrian?" Jamie said, flashing his best charming grin. "Sorry, I got lost. So... upstairs?"

Adrian checked his watch and nodded.

His apartment was a showroom of beige minimalism. It smelled of expensive candles and looked like no one actually lived there, only occasionally posed on the furniture.

They moved to the bedroom and Adrian backed Jamie toward the bed until his legs bumped the mattress, then pushed him down. His hands were already under Jamie’s tank top, palms sliding over warm skin, mapping muscles like he was checking off a list. His mouth found Jamie’s, then his jaw, then the curve of his throat, each kiss neat and deliberate.

Jamie flipped his cap backwards. He pressed a hand to Adrian's chest, a silent signal, and climbed over him as Adrian lay back against the pillows. A moment later, Adrian’s hand was heavy on the back of Jamie’s head, guiding him, the silence of the room filled with heavy breathing.

Adrian pulled him back up, and his perfectly straight teeth grazed the side of Jamie's throat. A controlled little scrape that sent a sharp spark down Jamie’s spine. Adrian maneuvered Jamie face-down onto the mattress with a firmness that left no room for argument. The high-thread-count sheets whispered under Jamie’s elbows as the bed dipped and creaked, his groans muffled by the mattress in a room that felt more like a hotel than a home.

Twenty minutes later, Jamie was back on the sidewalk. Sweat cooled on his skin as the humid night wrapped around him, the earlier rush already fading into a familiar, hollow buzz. He checked his phone. No new messages. He walked home alone.

***

A few days later, a half-finished illustration sat on Nico's desk, ignored. The coffee in his mug had gone cold three hours ago, a film forming on the surface. Nico wasn't working. He was staring at the same words on his phone screen.

Read 3 days ago.

The cursor blinked in the text box, waiting for an explanation that Nico didn't know how to give. He had apologized. He had reached out. The ball was in Ben's court, and Ben had apparently taken the ball and gone home.

Nico slammed the phone down. This passive waiting was driving him insane. If he couldn't fix it with a text, maybe he could fix it in person. Or at least, he could try to exist in the same space without hyperventilating.

He grabbed his keys and, before he could talk himself out of it, walked towards Sunbeam.

The shelter smelled of kibble, a scent Nico had grown to find weirdly comforting. Today, it made his stomach turn.

Chloe was at the front desk, sorting through a stack of adoption forms. She looked up as the bell jingled.

"Hey, Chloe," Nico said, trying to keep his voice casual and failing. "Is... is Ben here today?"

"Oh, hey Nico." Chloe offered Nico a half smile. "No, he changed his volunteer schedule. Said he had some things to take care of."

The air went out of Nico's lungs. "Oh," he said, trying to mask the crush of disappointment. "Right. Thanks."

He wandered into the catio, feeling useless. The cats were going about their business, indifferent to his human drama. He spotted Prunya on a high perch of a cat tree, judging the room with sleepy eyes.

Nico approached her slowly. He didn't have treats today, only a sketchbook and too much anxiety. He reached out, stroking the soft fur between her ears with two fingers. She leaned into the touch, purring.

"I really messed up, Prunya," Nico whispered to the cat. The confession felt easier when directed at her. "I panicked."

Prunya blinked slowly. She couldn’t provide forgiveness or advice. But for now, her steady purr was enough.