The clock on Alex’s nightstand glowed 3:17 a.m. when the soft knock came at the apartment door.

Alex had left it unlocked after Dami’s last text—an hour earlier, cryptic and needy: Can’t sleep. Need to see you.  

He opened the door to find Dami standing in the hallway, guitar case slung over one shoulder, hoodie half-zipped, eyes shadowed with something heavier than simple insomnia. 

Rain clung to his hair and lashes again, though the storm had passed hours ago. 

He looked raw, exposed, like the night itself had peeled back another layer.

“You okay?” Alex asked quietly, stepping aside. Dami didn’t answer right away. He set the guitar case down carefully against the wall, then pulled Alex into his arms without a word. 

The hug was tight, almost desperate—Dami’s face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck, breathing him in like oxygen.

Alex held him back, one hand stroking slowly up and down the damp fabric of his hoodie. “Bad night?”

“Dad called again,” Dami muttered against his skin. “Same shit. Told me I’m throwing my life away. That real men don’t chase stupid dreams with a guitar and a bar job.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Said I’d end up just like him—alone and angry.”

Alex’s chest tightened. He guided Dami to the couch, flicking on the small lamp that cast a warm, golden pool of light. 

They sat close, thighs pressed together. Alex kept one arm around Dami’s shoulders, thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“You’re not him,” Alex said firmly. “You’re talented. Your music moves people. I’ve seen it.”

Dami let out a shaky breath.

 “Sometimes I believe that. Other times…” He trailed off, hazel eyes flicking to the guitar case. 

“Can I play for you? Just… something new.” Alex nodded. “Always.”

Dami retrieved the guitar and settled on the floor in front of the couch, back against Alex’s legs. 

The position felt intimate—Dami between his knees, head occasionally brushing Alex’s thigh as he tuned the strings with practiced fingers. 

The soft lamplight highlighted the tattoos on his arms, the strong line of his shoulders, the way his damp hair curled at the nape of his neck.

He started playing without introduction. A slow, haunting melody in a minor key, fingers dancing over the frets with effortless grace. 

The notes filled the quiet apartment like smoke—rich, aching, beautiful.

Then Dami began to sing. His voice was low and rough-edged, the kind that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed. 

The lyrics spilled out raw and unguarded: “Rain on the window, whiskey on my tongue

You taste like danger, but I still run

Hands in the dark, secrets we keep

Burning so bright while the whole world sleeps…” Alex’s breath caught. 

The song was about them. About stolen kisses in alleys, feet teasing under family tables, bodies tangled in the dead of night. 

Every line carried the weight of their secret—the thrill, the guilt, the undeniable pull.

Dami’s eyes stayed closed as he sang, but his voice trembled on the chorus: 

“You’re the flame I can’t put out

Lighting up the dark I’m scared to live without

If this burns me down, let it burn

’Cause I’ve never felt this alive… never learned…”

When the final chord faded, silence settled heavy and sweet. Dami rested his forehead against the guitar’s body, breathing hard like he’d run a marathon.

Alex slid off the couch and onto the floor beside him. He took the guitar gently and set it aside, then cupped Dami’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing away the moisture at the corners of his eyes—whether from rain or emotion, Alex wasn’t sure.

“That was incredible,” he whispered. 

“You wrote that… for us?” Dami nodded, vulnerability laid bare. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how you make me feel seen. Not broken. Not a disappointment. Just… wanted.”

The confession cracked something open inside Alex.

 He leaned in and kissed Dami—slow, deep, pouring every unsaid word into it. 

Dami responded with a soft sound of relief, hands coming up to grip Alex’s waist, pulling him closer until Alex straddled his lap right there on the living room floor.

Their kisses turned heated but stayed tender. No frantic rush tonight. Just mouths moving together, tongues sliding lazily, hands exploring with reverence. Alex’s fingers traced the phoenix on Dami’s ribs through his shirt, then slipped underneath to feel warm skin.

Dami broke the kiss to tug his hoodie and T-shirt off in one motion, revealing the full canvas of ink and muscle.

 Alex followed suit, shirts discarded. Bare chests pressed together as they kissed again, skin on skin, heartbeats syncing.

“You make me brave,” Dami murmured against Alex’s lips. “Never told anyone the shit my dad says. Never let anyone hear the songs before they’re ready. But with you… I want to.”

Alex’s heart swelled. He kissed down Dami’s jaw, along the strong column of his throat, sucking lightly at the pulse point. 

“Then keep letting me in. I’m here.” They moved to the bedroom without urgency, shedding the rest of their clothes along the way. 

Naked and unhurried, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Dami rolled Alex beneath him, kissing every inch he could reach—collarbones, nipples, the sensitive dip of his hip. 

When he took Alex into his mouth, it was slow and worshipful, 

tongue swirling, hands stroking thighs and hips with gentle possession. 

Alex moaned softly, fingers threading through Dami’s hair. “Feels so good… 

just like that.”

Dami hummed in response, the vibration sending sparks up Alex’s spine. 

He worked him with patience, bringing him right to the edge before easing off, drawing it out until Alex was trembling and whispering pleas.

When Dami finally moved back up, they aligned their bodies—cocks sliding together, hot and slick with precome. 

They rocked slowly, hands linked above Alex’s head, foreheads pressed tight. 

Every roll of hips built the pleasure in waves, deep and toe-curling.

“Look at me,” Dami whispered. Alex opened his eyes. Hazel met brown in the dim light, raw and honest. No hiding. No secrets in this bed.

“I’m falling for you,” Dami said, voice rough with emotion and desire. “Hard. And it scares the shit out of me.”

Alex’s breath hitched. He tightened his grip on Dami’s hands. “I’m already there. Have been for longer than I want to admit.”

The admission tipped them both over. They came together—quiet, intense, bodies shuddering in unison as pleasure crashed through them. Dami buried his face in Alex’s neck, groaning his name like a prayer. 

Alex held him through it, stroking his back, pressing kisses to his temple. Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, sweat cooling on their skin.

 Dami’s head rested on Alex’s chest, one arm draped possessively over his waist. Alex’s fingers traced lazy patterns over the tattoos on Dami’s shoulder

“Play it again,” Alex whispered. “The song.”

Dami smiled against his skin. He reached for the guitar he’d carried into the bedroom earlier, propping himself up on one elbow. 

Naked, hair messy, eyes soft with afterglow, he looked more beautiful than Alex had ever seen him.

He played the song once more—quieter this time, voice intimate and close. Alex listened with his eyes closed, letting the lyrics sink deeper. 

When it ended, Dami set the guitar aside and pulled Alex back into his arms.

“No one else gets this part of me,” Dami said softly. “Just you.”

Alex kissed him, slow and lingering. “Then keep giving it to me. We’ll figure out the rest.”

They fell asleep like that—bodies entwined, the guitar resting nearby like a silent witness. 

For those stolen dark hours, the world outside didn’t exist. No Marcus. No disapproving fathers. 

No risk of discovery.Just music, vulnerability, and a flame that was beginning to feel less like a secret and more like home. But dawn would come soon enough.

And with it, the growing weight of everything they were still hiding.