Page 4 of Mutual Desire

“You’re the best. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Damien rolled his eyes, a grin creeping onto his face. “Go to bed, Nick.”

“I love you, D!” Nick shouted, sounding like a kid on a sugar rush.

Damien ended the call and pocketed his phone, the corners of his lips still tugged up in a faint smile. For all Nick’s dramatics, he couldn’t imagine life without his best friend.

After hanging up, he sighed, his hand brushing against the box of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. He hesitated. He didn’t smoke often—not anymore. But tonight had a way of dragging old habits out of hiding. His fingers tightened around the box as he let out a deep and long sigh. He glanced up at the night sky, the inky black stretching above him.

No stars. Not here. The city’s glow swallowed them whole, leaving only the faint haze of light pollution. It was better this way. Stars were a cruel reminder somehow—of his father. The sky was vast, like a blank slate that mirrored the emptiness he tried to ignore. His father’s presence still clung to him—not as a distant memory, but as a shadow that followed him everywhere, heavy and constant. Damien’s grip on the cigarette box slackened, his chest tightening with a familiar ache.His father’s death lingered heavy in his heart, a wound that refused to heal.And lighting a cigarette now felt like a betrayal—a reckless mimicry of the habit that had taken his dad from him.

But the alcohol buzzing in his veins dulled the guilt. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

Grief, he had learned, didn’t fade. It only softened, settling quietly like smoke in his lungs. His chest tightened at the thought, a cruel echo of the disease that had stolen his father, as if the night itself carried a reminder that some absences could never truly be filled.

Damien shook his head, refusing to go down that road. Thinking about it now would only send his emotions spiraling, and that was the last thing he wanted. Not tonight.

He took another pull from the cigarette, the bitter taste grounding him. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening his grip on his thoughts, letting the darkness creep in where he usually kept it locked away. Or maybe the stars—hidden behind the haze of the city—were hiding for a reason, unwilling to illuminate what he didn’t want to face.

As he exhaled, a thought crossed his mind—should he even go back inside? He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the models and pretentious party guests. The fatigue of the night was catching up with him, and all he wanted was to be home.

Making his decision, Damien crushed the cigarette under his sneaker and sent a quick text to Eric and the others in their group chat, explaining that he needed to head out early. He wasn’t lying, after all—he did have to help Nick in a couple of hours.

Sliding into his car, he drove through the quiet streets, taking his time. Thirty minutes or so later, he was back at his apartment, the weight of the night still lingering on his shoulders. A cold shower helped wash some of it away, but the exhaustion ran deeper than that.

Lying in bed, his mind raced. Thoughts of Nick’s work project mingled with the frustration of the evening. Deep down, he knew this was a minor disruption in his life, but something felt off. Maybe it was just the alcohol messing with his head, or maybe it was his instincts, that nagging feeling telling him to be careful.

Whatever it was, sleep didn’t come easily that night. And Damien had no idea that agreeing to help Nick would soon set off a chain of events that would change everything.

If only he had listened to his gut.

If only.

TWO

Digging the Grave

Damien couldn't decide what was worse: the headache or knowing he had no one to blame but himself. There was a time, waking up with that throbbing pain had been an unfortunate ritual. He turned his head slightly, glimpsing at Craig, who was sound asleep beside him. The sunlight streaked through the curtains, highlighting the loose strands of Craig's brown hair.

For a moment, Damien just watched him, marveling at how peaceful his man looked in his sleep. Even after three years, it never got old. Damien loved this—this quiet, intimate ritual of mornings spent together. Gently, he brushed his fingers through Craig’s hair, careful not to wake him. The headache could wait. Watching Craig sleep was his favorite way to start the day.

It was moments like this that reminded him how lucky he was to have Craig in his life. After everything he had been through, the whirlwind relationships, the toxic connections—Craig was the calm after the storm. Life had been hectic lately—work shifts colliding, missed conversations, stolen moments—but seeing Craig like this made all the chaos feel distant, like white noise in the background. Damien missed the little things: the morning coffees together, the long conversations that stretched into the night,and the intimacy of their lovemaking. Yet somehow, watching Craig sleep made all of it feel okay.

As he gazed at his boyfriend, memories of how they first met floated into his mind. He could still picture that night as if it were yesterday—Craig, sitting across from him in that crowded café, stealing glances when he thought Damien wasn’t looking. Craig had been adorably shy, his cheeks flushing the moment their eyes met. It was a simple look, but one that sparked something between them.

Damien smiled at the thought, his fingers still idly playing with Craig’s hair. If someone had told him back then that Craig would become the best relationship he had ever had, he might not have believed them. After all, he had been through so much before they met—relationships that left scars more than they provided comfort. Like Nolan. Damien’s mind flickered briefly to his first serious relationship with his former teacher. That had been... complicated.Comforting in a way Damien had needed back then, and eye-opening, too—his first relationship with a man, but not love. Maybe he hadn’t known the difference until now.

With a soft sigh, Damien shifted slightly and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table—9:38.He cursed under his breath. He had planned to go to Nick’s around ten, which left him with barely any time to eat or even think about anything else. His headache lingered, so he popped two pills, hoping they’d kick in soon. A cold shower helped somewhat, but the rush was on. He dressed quickly, grabbed his black bag with his MacBook and iPad, rushed to the door and headed out.

He winced as the cold morning air hit him, reminding him of his headache that the painkillers hadn’t quite cured. Driving to Nick's condo, his mind drifted between the comforting memory of Craig sleeping and the upcoming task of helping Nick with his project. As he drove, he shot a quick message to Craig, letting him know his plans for the day. The last thing he wanted was for Craig to wake up and worry. The thought of Craig waking up alone tugged at him—he wished he could’ve stayed longer in bed, but Nick needed him.

When he arrived at Nick’s condo, Damien let himself in using the spare key. The place was a familiar chaos of clutter. He wasn’t surprised at the mess. Nick had never been one for tidiness. Living with him back in the day had proven that point thoroughly. Papers, clothes, empty mugs cluttered every surface, and there were cables strewn across the floor like some kind of digital jungle. Despite the chaos, the place hadn’t lost its luxurious edge, though Damien could almost hear his mom’s voice in his head, telling him how untidy men always are when they live alone.

Nick was still in his pajamas, sitting at the kitchen counter surrounded by his two laptops, both of which were littered with coding screens. From the look of him, Nick had been glued there since their early morning call. His brown hair looked as if he’d been ruffling it in frustration, his muscular torso bare, and Damien could see from his red-rimmed eyes that his friend had probably been awake all night. The second Nick noticed Damien, his stressed expression morphed into pure relief.

“D! I've missed you, man,” Nick said, practically leaping from his chair to pull Damien into a hug. His arm wrapped around Damien’s neckin a quick embrace,the excitement in his voice at odds with his clear exhaustion.

A small, amused smile tugged at Damien’s lips. It had been a month since he last saw Nick, and in that time, his friend had clearly been run ragged. The dark circles under Nick’s red eyes told the whole story. Damien could see the toll of too many sleepless nights. Damien wondered how many espressos and energy drinks Nick had consumed to survive. He knew he’d need at least a couple himself if he was going to make it through the day.

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