Chapter 4

Morning came softly, without anyone telling it to, creeping into the room through the thin crack in the curtains. The light was pale at first, gentle, and slowly spread across the floor, then climbed up the side of the bed where Daniel was sleeping.

Daniel moved a little in his sleep, his body feeling heavy, his mind slow to wake up. There was warmth around him, a comforting feeling that wrapped around him before his thoughts could catch up. He breathed evenly, his face relaxed, not like it had been the night before.

It felt… safe.

He moved a bit more, his hand touching something warm next to him. He felt it faintly, but not enough to fully wake him. Instead, he leaned into it without thinking, wanting the comfort without asking why it was there.

Then his memory started to come back.

Not all at once.

Not easily.

But in pieces.

A place where people drank.

A drink.

A voice.

A room.

A man.

Daniel’s eyes flew open.

For just a second, he didn’t move. His eyes stayed unfocused, looking at nothing as his mind tried to put everything together. Then he understood everything fully, sharp and painful.

This was not his room.

The ceiling was wrong. The walls felt strange. The air smelled different—cleaner and colder in a way that didn’t feel like his.

And there was someone next to him.

Daniel slowly turned his head.

The man from the night before was there, still, looking calm even in sleep. Up close, everything about him seemed clearer in the morning light—the sharp lines of his face, the quiet strength in how he lay, the kind of stillness that looked less like rest and more like being in charge.

Daniel’s breath hitched.

The memories rushed back all at once.

The talking.

The closeness.

What they had done.

A sudden feeling of fear washed over him, making his chest tighten so much it hurt.

“Oh God,” he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them.

He sat up quickly, his movement awkward, his body still heavy from sleep and the leftover feeling of the drink. The sheets tangled around his legs, making him steady himself before he could stand up.

What had he done?

The question kept playing in his mind, getting louder with every passing second.

This wasn't like him.

This wasn't something he ever did.

He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing uneven as he looked around the room again, as if seeing it for the first time. Everything felt wrong now. Too strange and real.

“I need to go,” he muttered to himself, already reaching for his clothes.

He moved fast, almost like he was panicking, grabbing whatever he could find. His hands shook a little as he put on his shirt, fumbling with the cloth because he was in a hurry. His thoughts raced, jumping from one idea to another without landing on anything solid.

He shouldn’t have stayed.

He shouldn’t have trusted a stranger.

He shouldn’t have—

“Leaving so soon?”

The voice cut through his thoughts, low and calm.

Daniel froze.

Slowly, he turned around.

Tim was awake now, sitting up against the head of the bed with an ease that made it seem like he had been watching him for longer than Daniel realized. His face showed no confusion, no sign of sleep left in his eyes.

Daniel swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said quickly, but the words felt not enough even as he said them.

“You didn’t,” Tim replied.

That made it worse.

Daniel looked away, his eyes dropping to the floor as he tried to calm himself. “I should go,” he said again, with more firmness this time. “Last night was… I mean, I wasn’t thinking clearly, and—”

“You were thinking,” Tim interrupted quietly.

Daniel shook his head right away. “No, I wasn’t. I was drunk, I was upset, I wasn’t—” He stopped, his voice shaking as he tried hard to find the right words. “It was a mistake.”

The word hung between them, sharp and final.

Tim’s expression didn’t change.

But something in the room shifted.

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

Daniel hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

It was easier to say that.

Easier to believe it.

Because the other possibility was much more confusing.

Tim watched him for a moment, his eyes steady, unreadable. “You don’t remember what you said last night?”

Daniel frowned a little, confusion showing on his face. “What do you mean?”

“You asked me to stay,” Tim said simply. “You reached for me first.”

Daniel’s chest tightened.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he said quickly, his voice now sounding like he was defending himself. “I wasn’t in the right state of mind.”

“And now you are?”

The question was calm, but it hit hard.

Daniel opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out at first. He closed it again, shaking his head as he turned away. “This isn’t… this isn’t something I do,” he said more quietly. “I just went through something, and I needed—”

“Someone to remind you that you’re still wanted.”

Daniel stopped moving.

How true that was, it hit him harder than he expected.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, though his voice didn’t sound sure.

Tim didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was still even. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

Daniel let out a slow breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I don’t think I can.” He turned back toward the bed, forcing a small, awkward smile. “Thank you. For last night. Really. But I think it’s better if I just—”

He took a step toward the door.

And stopped.

Tim hadn’t moved.

He hadn’t raised his voice.

He hadn’t even stood up.

But the feeling in the air changed so much that Daniel felt it right away.

“Sit down,” Tim commanded him for the first time.

Daniel blinked, surprised by the change in his tone. “I… I don’t think that’s needed,” he replied carefully, trying to keep his voice steady.

Tim’s eyes didn’t move away. “Sit.”

There was something in his voice now—something deeper, more in control—that made Daniel pause.

For a moment, he thought about not listening.

Thought about just walking out anyway.

But his body didn’t move.

Slowly, not wanting to, he stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed again. He sat stiffly, his body tight, his hands resting flat on his knees.

The room felt different now.

“What is this?” Daniel asked, his voice sounding tight. “If this is about last night, I already said it was a mistake.”

Tim leaned back a little, his face calm but his eyes focused. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Daniel frowned. “What?”

“It wasn’t a mistake.”

“Yes, it was,” Daniel said, his voice getting a little louder. “We don’t even know each other. I was drunk. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

“You were thinking clearly enough to ask for what you wanted.”

Daniel shook his head, feeling more and more frustrated. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does to me.”

The words were quiet.

But they felt final, like they couldn’t be changed.

Daniel’s chest tightened again, a small feeling of worry starting to grow. “I think you’re thinking too much about it,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

“Am I?”

The question hung in the air, not answered.

Daniel looked away, his thoughts spinning. Something about this talk felt wrong—off in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I appreciate what you did,” he said after a moment, trying to make his voice sound calm. “But this doesn’t have to be more than what it was.”

“And what was it?” Tim asked.

Daniel paused. “A… just once.”

Tim’s eyes seemed to get a little sharper.

“No,” he said.

Daniel blinked. “No?”

“No.”

The sure feeling in his voice sent a shiver down Daniel’s spine.

“I don’t get it,” Daniel admitted, his voice now much quieter.

Tim leaned forward a little, his eyes meeting Daniel’s in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“I’m not letting you go.”

The words landed heavily in the room.

For a moment, Daniel didn’t react.

Then he laughed.

It sounded softly, sounding unsure, almost like he didn’t believe it. “That’s not funny,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t just say something like that.”

“I can.”

The laughter stopped.

Daniel stared at him, the truth of what was happening starting to hit him. “You’re serious,” he said slowly.

“Yes.”

A cold, heavy feeling settled in his chest.

“That’s… that’s not how this works,” Daniel said, his voice shaking now. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Tim’s face didn’t change. “I already did.”

Fear shot through him, sharp and sudden.

Daniel stood up quickly, stepping back as if putting distance between them could make this feel less real. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I’m leaving.”

He turned toward the door again, moving faster this time, more desperate.

“Daniel.”

Hearing his name made him stop.

He froze.

Slowly, he turned back.

Tim was watching him, his face calm, in control—but there was something else under the surface now, something that wouldn’t give in.

“If you walk out of that door,” Tim said quietly, “you won’t get very far.”

Daniel’s stomach dropped.

“You’re… you’re threatening me?” he asked, his voice barely steady.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

Silence fell again, feeling thick and hard to breathe as Daniel wondered who he really was.

“You don’t even know me,” he said finally, his voice softer now, almost begging. “Why are you doing this?” he was confused. “Please,” he said quietly, the word coming out before he could stop it. “Just… let me go.”