CASSAIN
I told myself it was nothing.
That he was nothing. Just another pretty face caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. A soft-looking boy who blinked too slowly and tilted his head like he didn't know what kind of eyes were watching him.
But ever since I walked away from him, left him stunned and standing between strangers—I hadn't stopped looking.
Noah.
That was his name. I tasted it in my head as I watched him from a distance, the way a serpent studies its prey from the dark. There was something so… unintentionally delicate about him. He wasn't doing anything special. Just talking to someone, holding a half-empty drink like it didn't belong to him. But the light curved around him like it wanted to kiss his skin, and that body—slim waist, soft hips, those pouty lips he kept biting like he didn't know what they did to people—it made me ache.
He didn't walk.
He glided.
And the more I watched him, the more that ache started to curl into something darker. I didn't want to know his dreams. I didn't want to hear his laugh. I wanted to drag him into something he couldn't crawl out of. I wanted him ruined.
That was the thing with beautiful things. You don't love them.
You break them.
Leo's obsession with him suddenly made perfect sense. Of course, he lost his mind over a body like that. A face like that. Noah wasn't just pretty….he was divine. The kind of pretty you'd bleed for, just to see up close.
I took a sip of something I didn't care about and followed him with my eyes.
He was alone now.
He kept glancing at his phone, biting his nail, then slipping it into his back pocket. Like he wanted to leave. Like he didn't belong here. I leaned against the banister on the second floor, looking down at him from the balcony, the music pulsing through the floorboards like a second heartbeat.
And I thought: If he were mine, I'd never let him walk through a room without knowing who owned him.
He started walking….slow, unsure…toward the stairs.
Up toward me.
My mouth twitched.
I let him pass, didn't say a word. Just turned and followed him silently like a phantom in the dark. He moved like someone who wasn't used to parties, pausing at every closed door, knocking softly, whispering something.
That voice.
It was quiet, but I heard the names.
"Bubba?"
A pause.
"Leo, baby, where are you?"
Another step. Another knock.
"Daddy…"
I nearly laughed. The softness of it. The innocence. He said it like it was theirs. Like it belonged to them. The trust in that voice made my stomach tighten with something unholy.
He was walking toward the last room in the hall. The one Leo always used when he was too high to care who he was inside.
I stepped aside and slipped through the door just before he reached it.
Inside, the air was thick with heat and music and sweat. Leo was there….of course he was. Naked, flushed, and fucking some guy I didn't recognize. The lights were off, but a few LED strips glowed dim blue from the ceiling like a bad dream. Clothes were scattered like broken promises across the floor. Leo's head lolled back against the pillows, his mouth open, eyes red from whatever he'd taken.
He didn't even see me walk in.
Or maybe didn't care didn't care.
Typical.
I turned away from the bed and saw Milo in the corner.
Sitting on a chaise lounge like he was waiting for an opera to begin.
He wasn't touching himself. Wasn't drinking. Wasn't doing anything but watching. Like always.
He met my gaze with a knowing smirk, pushing his black curls out of his eyes. His jeans were ripped, and his shirt was too small, hanging off one shoulder. He looked like sin dressed in velvet.
"Milo," I said quietly.
He raised a brow. "Cass."
I walked over, sat beside him, letting my knees brush his.
"You've been staring since I walked in," I murmured, pulling out a cigarette I had no intention of lighting.
"And you've been brooding since you saw him."
I didn't answer. Just twirled the cigarette between my fingers.
Milo laughed softly. "So? Are you in love?"
I scoffed.
"In love? With that?" I said, nodding toward the hallway.
"No," I muttered. "But I want to taste what Leo keeps drooling over. He talks about him like he's gold-dusted honey."
Milo's eyes gleamed. "He is pretty."
"Pretty?" I grinned. "That boy is a wet dream in skin. A doll built for sin. Slender waist, soft lips, thighs that tremble like they'd welcome bruises. I bet he whines when you choke him."
"Jesus," Milo said with a grin, but he didn't look away.
"I'm going to fuck him until he forgets his name," I whispered. "Until he begs like the little slut he is. Then I'll break that sweetness open and show him what he really tastes like."
Milo made a low sound of approval.
And then… the door creaked.
I stilled.
There was only one voice that soft. One voice that sweet.
"No, no," Noah whispered fumbling, pushing the door open a little further. "Bubba? You in here?"
I could hear the frown in his voice.
"Leo?" he whispered. "Where'd you go?"
His footsteps were cautious. The light from the hallway fell across the carpet, barely reaching where I sat in the shadows. Leo didn't stir. Milo leaned back like he was enjoying a private show.
Noah stepped in.
I didn't move.
Didn't speak, didn't even fucking breathe.
He was right there, so close I could smell the faintest hint of his cologne: soft linen and vanilla and something delicate, like he'd never done anything wrong.
He kept calling for Leo. "Baby… d'you fall asleep again? You didn't text me…"
I stared at the curve of his spine, at the dip of his waist, the smooth skin exposed above his waistband. His flashlight flicked on, slicing through the dark like a slow knife.
The light hit Leo.
Noah's mouth opened.
A small, shattered gasp.
He dropped the flashlight and then came the silent tears streaming beautifully.
His whole body froze, and all I could think was: Even heartbreak looks good on him.