•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
[Damien Lockwood]
Damien hoisted his duffel onto one shoulder, the bag feeling lighter than the weight of the conversation that was currently unfolding in the room.
"I do."
"Then why?"
He looked at her then, his gaze steady and intense, carrying none of the hesitation she appeared to be searching for.
Because none of it had ever felt like home.
Not the mansion. The polished halls and perfectly staged rooms had always belonged more to the family name than the people living inside them.
Not the money.
Not the expectations. The carefully constructed future laid out for him since childhood had never bothered to ask what he actually wanted from it.
Home was a dorm room filled with Oliver’s mismatched mugs.
Oliver stealing half the blanket and denying it the next morning. The cozy warmth of their shared space had turned essential long before Damien truly understood how much he needed it.
Home laughed too loudly. The unrestrained sound had always sliced through the careful silence he’d been trained to maintain.
Complained endlessly. The steady stream of dry wit and exaggerated grievances had somehow become the most genuine soundtrack of his days.
Home had beautiful hazel coloured eyes and a smile that was as bright as the sun itself.
Instead, he simply said, "I’m leaving."
He headed toward the door. The soft sound of his footsteps on the polished floor felt louder than usual in the stillness of the bedroom, each step carrying the finality of a decision that no longer needed explanation.
Dianne caught his arm. The gentle grip of her fingers against the fabric of his sleeve was firm enough to stop him but not enough to change his course.
"You’re ruining your own life."
He gently pulled away. The motion was careful yet absolute, leaving no room for further debate.
"No." His voice stayed calm, the quiet confidence settling into the space between them more effectively than any shouted words could have. "I’m choosing it instead."
She stood frozen. The soft light from the window continued to catch her carefully composed expression as the reality of the signed contract sunk in.
As he reached the doorway, he paused without turning around. "Don’t looking for me at Hawthorne."
"...What?"
"I mean it." His tone grew colder, carrying more weight than the earlier calm ever could. "Leave Oliver and I alone."
Then he walked away. The soft sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving behind the bedroom and the signed contract without a second glance.
Harris was waiting outside, the car already running. The soft hum of the engine filled the quiet driveway as evening light settled over the polished vehicle. "To the airport, sir?"
"Please."
The drive was quiet, neither of them said a word. When they finally arrived, the departure board greeted him with a sea of red letters.
DELAYED
Snowstorm.
Estimated delay: 11 hours.
Damien closed his eyes. The soft weight of fatigue and frustration settled behind his eyelids as the reality of the extended wait sank in.
"...Of course."
He tried calling Oliver. The quiet ringtone chirped once before cutting off, leaving only the silence of a failed connection.
His phone battery dwindled through the long hours until the screen finally went dark. His battery was dead.
He borrowed chargers. Each one felt just as disappointing as the last when none fit his phone’s port.
With each passing hour, he grew more restless. He wondered if Oliver had eaten and if he had slept.
If he was still pretending he wouldn’t miss him. The quiet certainty that Oliver was probably doing just that brought a small, involuntary smile to Damien’s face.
Oliver was likely chatting to the empty dorm by now, nearly twelve hours later, the plane finally landed. The soft jolt of wheels against the runway brought more relief than any of the previous hours of waiting had managed.
By the time Harris drove him back to Preston Hall, exhaustion weighed heavily behind Damien’s eyes. The long delay and the sleepless hours pressed in on him as the familiar shape of the building finally came into view.
He craved only three things.
Oliver, a shower, then dragging said boy into bed to sleep for the next twelve hours.
That was all. The quiet certainty of his plan settled comfortably as the car slowed to a stop in front of the building.
He turned the corner in the luxury hallway of Preston Hall and stopped. The soft fluorescent light of the corridor caught the figure standing several doors down, freezing every muscle in Damien’s body.
Jeremy Abernathy.
The blond looked pleasantly surprised. The relaxed curve of his expression carried the easy confidence that always seemed unaffected by the late hour or the empty hall.
"Oh?" Jeremy smiled, his expression bright and casual, landing with the ease of someone who had never faced the consequences of any of his actions. "You’re back sooner than I expected."
Damien’s face hardened instantly. The soft exhaustion that had lingered behind his eyes transformed into something colder and more focused.
"What are you doing here?"
Jeremy glanced toward Room 25. The way he looked made the connection between his presence and that door impossible to miss.
"I just came to say hi to Oliver." His smile widened, the kind of satisfaction that seemed to exceed what his words could convey.
"Oh."
"And return his gloves." Jeremy said, casually and playfully. "Oliver forgot them with me that night."
That night?
The hell did he mean that night?
Something hot twisted in Damien’s chest and his jaw clenched.
"I thought I told you," Damien said quietly. "To stay away from him."
Jeremy raised his hands in an innocent gesture. The soft movement was practiced, almost theatrical, showing none of the sincerity his words might have suggested.
"Relax, Lockwood. I wasn’t the one doing the inviting this time."
Damien stepped forward slowly. The soft sound of his shoe on the hallway floor filled the silence between them.
Jeremy didn’t move. The soft confidence in his posture remained intact, as if Damien’s change in expression hadn’t phased him at all.
"Oliver asked me out."
He let out a soft chuckle. The casual tone held more satisfaction than amusement. "What was I supposed to do? Say no to that pretty face?"
Every muscle in Damien’s body tensed. The exhaustion from the long wait and sleepless hours suddenly paled in comparison to the rage now simmering inside him.
Jeremy leaned closer, his weight shifting into Damien’s space, the quiet words that followed hitting harder than necessary.
"We had a really nice time, you know."
His voice was almost conversational, the soft tone making the implication beneath the words more pointed.
"If I were you... I’d keep a closer eye on Oliver." Jeremy said with a smile.
The soft curve on his lips carrying the satisfaction of someone who knew exactly how the conversation would unfold.
"You leave for one weekend...and he starts spending more time with me."
He gave Damien an almost sympathetic look. The soft mockery behind it was controlled but glaringly obvious.
"Imagine what might have happened if you’re gone longer."
Jeremy patted Damien’s shoulder lightly.
"Anyways, see you around, Lockwood."
He walked away without a second glance. The soft sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving Damien standing there with the weight of Jeremy’s words still lingering.
Damien remained perfectly still, Jeremy lied as easily as he breathed.
He knew that.
He’d seen him manipulate people since they were kids. The soft ease with which Jeremy twisted conversations and shifted blame had been a constant force in his life.
But...the gloves...Oliver...that night.
No.
He needed to hear it from Oliver, nothing else mattered, he strode toward Room 25.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The door flew open almost immediately.
Olivers hair was messy, sticking up in several directions, as if he had fallen asleep against something and only recently woken up.
He looked like he’d barely slept. The faint shadows beneath his eyes matched the exhaustion Damien currently carried, though the expression that settled across Oliver’s face the moment their eyes met was anything but tired.
The moment their eyes met, Oliver’s entire face lit up into relief and happiness. Oliver’s face had always being so expressive... betraying him when he lied about his true feelings.
Something warm settled briefly inside Damien’s chest. The quiet weight of it was almost enough to push the earlier tension aside for a single, suspended second.
Then, his eyes dropped to the gloves that were still in Oliver’s hand.
Damien’s expression cooled, his voice came out low, controlled and dangerously calm.
"...Why was Jeremy here just now?"
Oliver’s smile slowly faltered. The soft brightness that had lit his face only seconds earlier dulled, leaving something quieter and more uncertain in its place.
And Damien waited.
He had given up the Lockwood name for this.
The last thing he wanted was Jeremy tainting the hallway of his home.