Lachlan

The air in the heart of Detroit was thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber, a constant reminder of the city’s pulse—a rhythm both broken and relentless. In the past this city was the heart of Michigan, the heart of The United Confederacy's automotive industry. Years of overpopulation and lack of urban planning cause the people of Detroit to start building up. The stacks, glorified cabinets for people, it also happens to be my home. 

I’m nothing special. Below average grades, looks, personality, the list goes on. I'm one of two kids from my parents, the baby of the family, treated as anything but. I walk the streets of this city looking at the signs of the Sterling Corp, I hate it. The only redeeming qualities are my family and her, Delilah. She is my confidant, my crush, and my best friend. 

“Delilah!” I yell through the crowd of people.

“Lach!” She yells back as she jumps in my arms. “I’ve missed you”

“Likewise, Happy new year, How was your vacation?”

“Oh you know, boring with my family, lots of gross guys hitting on me.”

“Well, you are quite attractive, so can't blame them.” I respond with a grin. I chuckle, giving her a playful squeeze. "But seriously, how’s everything else? What’s been keeping you busy these days?"

She rolls her eyes, but I can see the smirk tugging at her lips. "Same old stuff, you know—school, work, and trying to dodge all the creeps." She shrugs dramatically, making a show of exasperation. "But enough about me. What’s your excuse for not visiting sooner?"

I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "You know how it is... I’ve been drowning in work, but I’m here now. So, tell me, what’s your New Year’s resolution?"

Delilah grins, tapping her chin like she’s deep in thought. "To finally learn how to say no to the guys who ask me out on terrible dates." She pauses, then adds with a wink, "And maybe, just maybe, get a little more sleep."

I sense the shift in her demeanor as she pulls back slightly, her smile returning, but now there’s something colder behind it. She leans in a little closer, her voice lower, almost coaxing. "You’re always so worried about me, Lach. It’s sweet, really," she says, her eyes locking with mine in a way that feels almost predatory now.

I blink, taken aback by the change in tone, but I try to keep my focus. "Delilah, what’s going on? You’re acting a little... strange."

Her grin widens, a flicker of amusement in her gaze as she steps back slightly, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. "Strange? Maybe. But I know you, Lach. You always want to fix things. Always trying to save people. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you," she says, her words smooth and measured, like she's trying to get under my skin.

I shift uncomfortably, trying to read her, but there’s something about her presence that feels almost suffocating now. "What are you getting at?"

She tilts her head, feigning innocence, but I see the subtle glint of manipulation in her eyes. "Oh, nothing, really. I just think it’s cute how you think you can fix me. How you think you know me so well," she says, her voice dripping with sweetness. "But maybe... just maybe, I don’t need fixing. Maybe I just need someone to... listen."

She steps closer again, her breath warm against my ear. "And I know you’ll listen, Lach. You always do. No matter what I ask of you."

I can feel the subtle shift in power, the way she’s slowly taking control of the conversation. I swallow, unsure how to respond. "Delilah... I’m not some project."

She pulls back, eyes sparkling with mischief, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. "Of course you’re not. You’re just the perfect person for the job, aren’t you? Always so willing to help, to make sure everyone else is okay. It's what makes you so... dependable."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with something more than just affection. It feels like a game now—one I’m not sure I want to play. "And what exactly do you want, Delilah?" I ask, my voice a little sharper than before.

She smiles again, slow and knowing, as if she’s been waiting for me to ask. "Oh, I think you already know, Lach. You’ve always known."

Delilah’s smile softens, almost sweet, but there’s an edge to it now, something dangerous. She steps closer again, her body brushing against mine in a way that feels too deliberate. Her hand grazes my arm, just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "Lach," she says softly, her voice full of promise, "you’re always so good to me. So... patient. I really do appreciate it."

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in my chest. "I just want to make sure you're alright," I reply, though my voice is weaker than I want it to be.

She tilts her head, eyes flicking to my lips before meeting my gaze again, her expression playful yet calculating. "I know," she says, her tone almost a purr now. "You’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Always so ready to drop everything for me. It’s... kind of irresistible, honestly."

I stare at her, heart racing, trying to figure out what she’s really doing. "Delilah, what are you saying?"

Her hand moves to my chest, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of my shirt. She leans in just a little closer, her breath hot against my neck. "I don’t know... maybe that you’ve always been the one person who really gets me," she whispers, her words hanging in the air like an invitation. "Maybe you’re the only one I can count on."

For a moment, I’m lost in her gaze, her proximity. But something inside me warns me that this is all too easy, too manipulative. "You don’t need me to fix you, Delilah," I say, forcing myself to stay calm. "You’re more than capable of handling things on your own."

She laughs softly, almost mockingly, pulling back just a bit to study me. "I know I can, but where’s the fun in doing everything alone, Lach?" Her eyes drop to my lips again, her voice lower. "I like having you around. You make things... better."

I can feel myself getting caught up in her words, the pull of her attention, but something inside me clenches. She’s toying with me, leading me on, like she’s done before. "I’m not just some backup, Delilah," I say, my voice firmer now, even though my heart is still racing.

Her lips curl into a teasing smile, and she lets out a soft sigh, as if she's disappointed. "Oh, come on, Lach. You’re not just ‘some backup.’ You’re... special to me. You know that, don’t you?" Her fingers trail down my arm, and she presses a soft kiss on my cheek, lingering there just a moment too long.

She pulls back, eyes glinting with amusement, as if she’s getting exactly what she wants. "But maybe... we can take things slow. You know, see where this goes. You never know, right?"

Her words are like a promise, but the way she says them—so casual, so effortless—makes it clear that she’s in control. I’m not sure if I’m falling for it, or if I’m just playing along with whatever game she’s decided to set in motion.

But deep down, I know the truth. Delilah doesn’t want me to fix her. She just likes knowing she has me wrapped around her finger. And right now, I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to walk away.

Delilah pulls back suddenly, her fingers slipping from my arm as if the connection was never there. The sudden distance between us feels like a punch to the gut, and I’m left standing, frozen, trying to process what just happened.

She gives me a tight smile, almost too practiced. "Actually, I just remembered something," she says, her voice quick and dismissive, as if she’s trying to hide the shift in her mood. "I have to go find someone. Can’t keep them waiting." Her eyes flicker to the crowd, as though she's already mentally checked out of the moment.

I blink, thrown off balance by the sudden change in her behavior. "Wait, Delilah—" I start, but she’s already stepping away, her movements sharp and deliberate.

She turns her head just enough to shoot me a glance over her shoulder. "Don’t worry, Lach. I’ll see you around, okay?" The words are casual, but there’s no warmth in them anymore. It's like she’s already moved on, already forgotten the tension, the flirtation, the moment we shared.

I stand there, staring at her retreating figure, a mixture of confusion and frustration building inside me. What the hell just happened?

Delilah disappears into the crowd, leaving me standing alone in the middle of it all, feeling suddenly smaller, like I’ve been cast aside without even realizing it. My heart is still pounding, my mind racing, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve just been played.

I try to shake it off, telling myself it doesn’t matter, but deep down, I know it does. I don’t know if I’m just another pawn in her game or if she really meant anything she said to me. Either way, I’m left with nothing but the sting of her absence and the hollow echo of her words.

I stand there for a moment, staring at the spot where Delilah just disappeared into the crowd, feeling a strange emptiness settle in my chest. What the hell just happened? One minute, it felt like we were connected—like there was something real there—and the next, she was gone, leaving me with nothing but a fading smile and the feeling that I’d been used.

I turn away, my thoughts swirling in a haze of confusion and frustration. My heart still races, but it’s not from excitement anymore. It’s from the hurt, the betrayal, the nagging sense that I’ve been nothing more than a distraction for her. I shove my hands into my jacket pockets, my mind replaying every moment, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

The crowd feels suffocating now, the laughter and music fading into the background as I push through it, heading for the exit. I can’t shake the feeling of her touch, her words lingering in my head like some twisted melody. I thought we had something, but maybe I was just a pawn in her game. A game she didn’t even care to finish.

By the time I reach the sidewalk, the weight of it all presses down on me, and I walk slower, letting my feet guide me home. The cold air bites at my face, but I barely notice. My thoughts are tangled, replaying every conversation, every glance, every touch, trying to make sense of it. But it doesn’t add up.

I pass a dark alley, the shadows swallowing the light from the street lamps. I’m not paying attention—too lost in my own head—and that’s when I hear it: footsteps, too many for it to just be a coincidence.

Before I can react, a hand grabs my shoulder, yanking me back, and I stumble into the alley. My heart jumps into my throat as I spin around, only to face a group of three guys, all wearing hoodies pulled low over their faces, their eyes cold and calculating.