Marcus: Heading over in 20. Need to grab that toolbox I left last month. Cool?

Alex’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t seen Dami since their painful conversation three nights ago. They’d exchanged only a few careful texts—surface-level things like “How was your set?” and “Project going okay?”—nothing that touched the raw wound between them. The distance hurt more than Alex wanted to admit. He typed back quickly.

Alex: Yeah, no problem. Door’s open. He spent the next fifteen minutes frantically scanning the apartment for any trace of Dami: a stray guitar pick on the coffee table, the extra toothbrush in the bathroom, the hoodie Dami had left draped over the chair two weeks ago. 

He shoved everything into the back of his closet and sprayed air freshener like it could erase the memory of Dami’s cologne mixed with sex and late-night confessions.

When Marcus walked in, he looked normal—jeans, T-shirt, easy smile. He headed straight for the hall closet where the toolbox lived.

“Found it,” Marcus called, emerging with the red metal box. “Thanks, man. Lena’s been on me about fixing that shelf.”

“No rush,” Alex said, forcing casualness as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Want a beer?”

Marcus hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Quick one.” 

They sat at the small dining table. Conversation started light—work, the upcoming baby, Marcus complaining about sleep deprivation already. 

Alex laughed at the right moments, but his shoulders stayed tense. Then Marcus’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it and frowned.

“Dami’s been weird lately,” Marcus said, taking a sip of beer. “Dodging my calls, canceling plans. You notice anything when he crashed here that night?”

Alex’s grip tightened on his bottle. “Not really. Family stuff with his dad, I think.”

Marcus studied him. “You two talk much?”

“Sometimes.” The lie tasted bitter. “Why?”

Marcus set his beer down. “Because I saw something on his Instagram story last week. Some blurry shot from a gig. Looked like lyrics about rain and secret flames or whatever poetic shit he writes. 

Then today I borrowed his laptop to print something and found a text thread open. Your name kept popping up.”

The air in the apartment thickened. Alex froze. “What?”

Marcus pulled out his own phone, scrolling until he found screenshots he’d apparently taken. He slid the device across the table. Alex’s blood ran cold as he read. Messages from weeks ago. 

Flirty. Heated. 

One from Dami: Can’t stop thinking about your mouth.

 Another: You’re mine, even if we have to hide it. 

And worse—recent ones where Dami had admitted he was scared but couldn’t stay away.

Marcus’s voice was low, dangerous. “You want to explain why my little brother is texting my best friend like they’re fucking?” The word landed like a slap. 

Alex’s mouth went dry. “Marcus—”

“Don’t.” Marcus stood abruptly, chair scraping loud against the floor. “Don’t lie to me. Not about this. How long?”

Alex swallowed hard. “A few weeks. It started the night he showed up here after the fight with his dad.”

Marcus laughed, but there was no humor in it—only sharp betrayal. “The night I thanked you for looking out for him? Jesus Christ, Alex. He’s like family. My best friend since college. And you… what? Seduced him?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Alex said, voice rising as he stood too. “It just happened. We tried to stop. But the connection—it’s real, Marcus. I care about him. More than care.”

Marcus’s face twisted. “Real? You’re his first guy and you think it’s real? He’s confused, Alex. He’s always been messed up about his dad, about fitting in. You took advantage.”

“I didn’t—” Alex’s chest heaved. “He wanted it too. We both did. I love him.” The confession hung in the air, raw and undeniable. 

Marcus stared at him like he was a stranger. “Love? You’re willing to blow up our family over this? Mom and Dad are finally proud of you—the successful son, the responsible one. And you’re sneaking around with Dami behind my back? Behind everyone’s back?”

Guilt and anger collided inside Alex. “I didn’t plan this. But hiding it was killing us both. Dami’s scared too—he’s terrified of what you’ll think, what everyone will think.”

Marcus slammed his hand on the table. “Because it’s fucked up! He’s my brother in every way that matters. You crossed a line, Alex. A big one.”

The front door opened without a knock. Dami stepped inside, guitar case in hand, clearly expecting only Alex. He froze when he saw Marcus, eyes widening as he took in the scene—the tense stances, the phone on the table, the fury on Marcus’s face.

“Marcus—what are you doing here?” Dami asked, voice tight. Marcus turned on him slowly. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing about my brother.”

Dami’s gaze flicked to Alex, panic flashing across his features. “You told him?”

“He found the texts,” Alex said quietly. “On your laptop.”

Dami went pale. “Fuck.”

Marcus stepped closer to Dami, voice shaking with betrayal. “You too? After everything? I’ve had your back since day one—when your dad kicked you out, when you needed a place to crash, when you were too drunk to drive. And this is how you repay me? By fucking my little brother in secret?”

Dami flinched but didn’t back down. “It’s not like that. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. And it’s real, man. Alex… he sees me. The real me.”

Marcus laughed bitterly. “The real you? The one who’s too scared to come out? The one who was just telling his ex he might be confused? Yeah, I saw those messages too. You’re using him, Dami. And you—” He pointed at Alex. “You’re letting it happen because you’re selfish.”

The argument exploded. Voices rose, accusations flew. Marcus called them both liars. Dami tried to explain the depth of his feelings, how Alex made him feel alive for the first time. 

Alex begged Marcus to understand that love didn’t follow family rules.

But the damage was done. Marcus finally stepped back, breathing hard, eyes glistening with hurt. 

“I need air. Don’t follow me. Either of you.” He grabbed the toolbox and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Silence crashed down. Dami stood frozen in the middle of the room, shoulders slumped. “He hates me.”

Alex moved toward him, but Dami took a step back, shaking his head. 

“Don’t. This is my fault. I should’ve been honest from the start. With him. With myself.”

“Dami—”

“No.” Dami’s voice broke. “I panicked when Chloe called. I let doubt creep in. And now look what I’ve done. I’ve ruined everything. Your family. My friendship with Marcus. Us.”

Tears burned in Alex’s eyes. “It’s not ruined. We can fix this.”

Dami looked at him with shattered eyes. “How? When the people we love most see us as a betrayal?” 

He picked up his guitar case, movements mechanical. “I need space. To figure out who I am without dragging you down with me.”

“Dami, wait—” But Dami was already at the door. He paused, back turned. “I’m sorry, Alex. For starting the fire. And for not being strong enough to keep it from burning us alive.”

The door closed softly behind him. Alex sank to the floor, knees giving out as the inferno finally consumed everything.The secret was out. And the flames had left nothing but ashes in their wake.