Chapter 197: The Worst Possible Welcome Home
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I shot up so quickly I nearly toppled over the coffee table. The sudden motion sent a small stack of papers sliding toward the edge, and I barely caught everything before it all crashed to the floor.
"Damien!"
I practically sprinted to the door, throwing it open. The handle turned under my grip with more force than necessary, the door swinging wide enough for the cooler hallway air to rush in and greet me.
"..."
My smile vanished faster than lightning. The bright, expectant expression that had been ready and waiting crumpled the moment I registered the figure in the doorway.
There stood Jeremy, holding something behind his back. The soft hallway light illuminated the awkward tension of the moment, making it all the more apparent.
Now what was his ass here for?!
The last person I wanted to see right now.
He gave me a shy smile. This one was softer than his usual confident ones, carrying a hint of uncertainty that hadn’t been present in our earlier chats.
"...Not who you were expecting, right?"
I let out a frustrated sigh, "...No."
"Ouch."
"What are you doing here, dipshit?"
"Yikes...I–uh..."
Jeremy slowly revealed a familiar pair of thick winter gloves. They looked a bit wrinkled, like they had been carefully carried instead of just tossed into a bag.
"I think..." He rubbed the back of his neck. This small, self-conscious gesture made him seem younger, less like the polished version of himself that usually exuded confidence. "...You left these behind when you ran away screaming from me."
"I did not scream." I said, although I could have. It’s not everyday some guy tries to kiss you after telling you the you actually liked ain’t shit and he’s basically better than him.
"But I bet you screamed internally."
"I absolutely did."
I snatched the gloves. The soft fabric felt cool against my fingertips, a small yet ridiculous reminder of last night’s events.
"...Thanks."
I began to close the door, halfway through the motion when a hand gently stopped it from shutting completely.
Jeremy caught it just in time. His fingers pressed lightly against the wood, firm enough to halt our conversation.
"Oliver."
I sighed. My breath was heavy with more resignation than irritation, though both were definitely present. "What now?"
"I’m sorry." His usual teasing smile was gone. The seriousness that replaced it felt genuine, far more than many of the expressions he’d worn the night before.
"I know I crossed a line, I should’ve respected your boundaries. I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you."
He looked genuinely remorseful. The weight of that expression settled between us more effectively than any previous apologies had managed.
"I don’t expect everything to just go back to normal like that dumb move didn’t happen. I just..." He smiled weakly, his uncertain mouth curve betraying his lack of confidence. "...I hope we don’t have to become strangers."
I studied him for a beat, the soft hallway light catching the edges of his expression while I weighed the sincerity against everything that had happened the previous night.
I wanted him to get the fuck out, but at the same time...he’s only crime was liking someone who liked someone else.
I could only imagine how painful unrequited love was.
Sure he was pushy and persistent as hell, but I still felt bad for him.
Then I sighed. "I forgive you, you moron."
Immediate relief crossed his face. The tension in his shoulders eased, as if my words had lifted a weight he hadn’t even known he was carrying.
"But..." I pointed a finger at him sharply, emphasizing the seriousness of our conversation. "I still think you need some time away from me, you need to get over whatever your feelings are...And then maybe we can be friends."
Jeremy nodded, the motion small but clear, signifying none of the earlier resistance. "That’s fair."
"And stop being a fuckboy."
He laughed, quieter than usual, almost self-deprecating in a way that felt more authentic. "...Working on it."
"I’m serious, maybe then you’ll actually find someone."
"I know, I’ll change."
I crossed my arms, the gesture serving as a physical reminder that mere words wouldn’t cut it this time. "We’ll see."
He smiled, softer this time, his usual confidence fading to reveal a quiet determination.
"For what it’s worth...You’re a genuinely good person, Oliver."
"..."
Heat crept awkwardly to my ears. The sudden warmth felt unnecessary given the circumstances, and thankfully the hallway light was dim enough to hide most of it.
"...Whatever you say, dude."
Jeremy chuckled, the sound devoid of earlier tension and settling into genuine amusement. "And I’ll always be around if you need someone."
I blinked at him in confusion, "...Okay?"
He took a step back, the soft distance between us felt intentional, as if he was carefully respecting the boundaries we had just re-established.
"Later, professor."
"See you."
I watched him walk down the hallway before shutting the door. The soft click of the lock sounded quieter than usual, leaving the corridor to slip back into its usual empty stillness.
Weird guy.
Nice.
But really weird.
I looked at the gloves. The soft fabric still felt a bit chilly from the hallway air, serving as a small and slightly ridiculous reminder of last night’s unexpected visit.
"...At least I got these back."
The Alfredo was still sitting in the fridge.
With a sigh, I pulled it out. It looked less appetizing under the kitchen light than before, the sauce thickening as it chilled.
"...Round two."
The microwave hummed softly as I stared at my phone. The mechanical noise filled the kitchen for a few seconds before the timer beeped, and the reheated pasta returned looking slightly more edible.
Nothing, so I tried calling Damien one last time.
Straight to voicemail. The cheerful automated greeting returned once more, utterly indifferent to the growing pile of unanswered attempts in my call history.
"...Come on."
There was another knock, I groaned, the sound carrying more exhaustion than irritation, though both were present after a long night of waiting.
"What now?"
I walked toward the door. The soft sound of my footsteps felt louder than usual in the quiet apartment, each step holding a small flicker of hope that the previous visitor hadn’t just come back for another chat.
"Jeremy, if you forgot your dignity too, I’m not—"
I opened the door, the words died in my throat.
The half-formed sentence faded completely the moment I recognized the figure standing on the other side.
Damien was there.
A long black coat draped over his broad shoulders, a travel bag sat beside one polished shoe. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from the journey, and faint shadows under his icy blue eyes suggested he hadn’t had much sleep on the way.
Even looking exhausted, he somehow managed to look unfairly handsome, the kind of handsome that turned airports into fashion shoots.
But it wasn’t just his appearance that had me frozen.
It was his expression.
It was cold and unreadable, he hadn’t looked at me that way in a long time.
His gaze flicked from my face... and to the winter gloves still in my hand.
Then past me into the apartment, his jaw tightened, a small, controlled motion that carried more tension than most full conversations ever could.
When his eyes locked back on mine, they had darkened noticeably. The soft hallway light caught the sharper edges of his features, highlighting the intense look in his eyes that was hard to ignore.
His voice came out quiet, it was controlled and dangerously calm.
"Why was Jeremy here just now?"
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
The words that should have spilled from my lips were stuck somewhere between my brain and my voice, leaving a heavy silence between us and the weight of the gloves still clutched in my hand.
And Damien was looking at me like he needed a damn good explanation.