CHAPTER 6

SIRE PACED the floor, back and forth, restless, anxious, unable to settle. It had been nearly a week since he last saw the Spaniard. The restaurant was the last place they had spoken. After that nothing Joaquin had simply vanished.

Did the things he said cut that deep? Had he hurt Joaquin so badly that he wanted nothing more to do with him? Guilt gnawed at him day and night. He barely slept, his mind looping over every harsh word, every cold look.

This was what he wanted—wasn’t it? To be left alone, to have his peace back. Yet now that it was real, it felt wrong. Empty. He found himself longing to see him again. It’s just guilt' he told himself. That’s all. Nothing more.

“You’re making me dizzy watching you,” Dae said gently. He’d seen him restlessness all morning. “What’s really bothering you?”

“Nothing. Ignore me.”

Dae nearly rolled his eyes. “How can I ignore you? Look at yourself. You look torn apart.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Sire sank into a chair. “Has Demter reached out? Is she with Joaquin?” He needed to know. He needed to know where Joaquin was.

Dae lifted an eyebrow, his suspicion confirmed. Joaquin was the reason for all this. “I have no idea at all. Dem's nowhere to be found so maybe they were together?".

“That might be true. Did Creed mention anything to you?”

“Not heard from him.”

“Hey!”

Both looked up. Deme stood in the doorway, bright and warm, smiling the moment she saw them—nothing like Demter’s quiet stillness.

“How are you two?” she greeted them warmly.

“We’re good,” Dae smiled back. “And you? We met Demter. You really are identical.”

Deme grinned. “I’m fine. Was she kind?”

“She was great,” Dae assured her.

Sire held his tongue. He wanted to ask, where is Joaquin. But pride locked the words inside. He felt too ashamed to say them.

“Is Joaquin with you?” Dae asked when he saw his friend hesitate.

Sire held his breath, waiting. He should feel relieved, shouldn’t he? No more Joaquin haunting his thoughts. No more confusing warmth. Yet all he felt was a hollow ache and something was missing.

He's so messed up.

“No,” Deme said softly. “He’s in the hospital.”

Sire’s eyes went wide. Hospital? Why? His heart lurched before he could stop it. No. I don’t care. I shouldn’t care!

He stayed silent, though questions burned on his tongue. I don’t care' he repeated to himself.

“What happened?” Dae’s voice was tight with worry.

“He was shot.”

“He was shot?!” Sire blurted out before he could stop himself. Alright he admitted it. He cared.

Deme smiled, pleased. “It’s not life-threatening. He’ll be fine. Dallas is looking after him.”

Sire’s jaw tightened. Dallas. A woman’s name. Something hot and sharp twisted in his chest.

“Dallas is our friend—a journalist,” Deme explained. “And she’s very fond of him. So Qin was definitely in good hands.”

Sire’s teeth ground together. His hands curled into fists. Something twisted and burned inside him. He wanted to storm somewhere. To hit something.

“You alright, Sire?” Deme asked innocently, hiding a knowing smile.

“Y-yeah.”

Deme went on. “ Dallas was smart and beautiful. They really suit each othe-”

Sire was on his feet, grabbing his bag, storming out before she could finish. His head spun. He wanted to scream. Dallas. Dallas. Who the hell is she?

He struck the wall hard as he passed it—once, then again. Pain flared across his knuckles, blood welling, but he didn’t care.

Why do I feel this way? Am I losing my mind?

He rushed to the restroom, washing the blood from his hand—stinging, raw. He lifted his face to the mirror and froze. Staring back wasn’t himself. It was Joaquin. Joaquin’s eyes. Joaquin’s smile.

The hell.

He gripped the sink’s edge, closing his eyes but there he was again.

Damn it! Why can’t I get him out of my head?

He splashed cold water, forcing himself to breathe. He needed to know if  Joaquin was alright? He wouldn’t rest until he saw it himself.

He returned to class in silence, sitting apart, pretending to listen. Not a single word sank in.

“Which hospital is he in?” Dae asked when class ended. “We should visit.”

“Rodríguez Médicos. In Spain.”

“Spain?!” Sire stared, stunned. How was he there?

“I’m heading there after lunch,” Deme said. “Would you like to come?”

“I’m coming.” The words left Sire's mouth before he thought.

“Are you sure?” Deme tilted her head. “You don’t have to. Dallas is already there.”

Sire’s jaw set firm. “I’m coming,” he said firmly.

Dae said. “I wish I could go, but Father would be furious.”

Deme smiled gently. “It’s alright.”

*

*

*

HALF A WORLD AWAY, Joaquin lay in a hospital bed, counting the days. Six days. Six days since he’d seen Sire. He missed the Philippines. He missed him.

I miss my babe.

His mother wouldn’t let him travel, said his body needed rest after surgery.

“Hijo,” his mother Margarita sat beside him, “when will you introduce the one you love? Demter told me you’ve fallen for someone.”

Joaquin sighed. As expected of Dem and her blabbermouth. “Another time, Mamá.”

“Is she the reason why you returned to study? You're near your thirties, Hijo. How about your company?”

“The company is fine, Mama.  Fiore has it all in hand.”

Margarita patted his hand. “I only want to see you happy. But will you hurry up and give me grandchildren already.”

Joaquin smiled sadly. He wanted to tell her—truly he did—but not yet. Not until Sire wanted him back. No one else would do. Only him.

Margarita left to see her other patients. Joaquin closed his eyes. Does Sire even know he's hurt? Would he care? Does he think of me?

“When will you tell your mother you like men too?”

Joaquin opened his eyes. Dallas stood there. A friend of his and she's been visiting him often.

“I don't know. I don't even think I have a chance either.” he said quietly.

She moved closer, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Why do all the handsome men like the handsome ones?” She leaned in. “I can be your girlfriend. You don't need to chase him."

Joaquin didn’t flinch. He knew she was up to something. She leaned closer still, her face inches from his.

Then the door suddenly opened while they were in that position.

Deme, Fiore, and Sire came in.

Joaquin’s heart soared up seeing Sire who stood frozen at what he witnessed. He saw how close they were—faces nearly touching. His chest ached sharply. He wanted to turn and run.

Joaquin pulled back immediately putting distance between him and Dallas. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?” his eyes met Sire.

“We came to see you,” Deme answered softly.

Dallas looked at someone who isn't familiar with her. Then she catches the way Quin looks at him. So this must be the one. Wow. He is strikingly handsome too. “Hi. It's my first meeting with you. I’m Dallas White.” she said, stepping toward him.

Sire met her gaze with a cold, unyielding stare. So this is her? Fine. She’s pretty—so what? It changes nothing. “Sire Gracia.” He spoke his name like shards of ice.

"I'm Quin's girlfriend."

The words hit him harder than a fist to the gut. His blood turned cold then. Girlfriend. The word echoed in his head like it was mocking him.

"She's not. I don't have a girlfriend." Joaquin meddled in. "She's a cousin of mine. There nothing between us." He desperately explained to Sire as if something will change.

"Really? You don't have a girlfriend?" Sire felt relieved like a nail was taken out of his chest.

"Yes." Joaquin replied while sincerely looking through Sire's eyes.

"Yeah. He's my cousin. I was just teasing you." Dallas back it up. Actually, earlier she got a message from Deme that they're coming together with Quin's crush and ask her to pretend. "Anyway, since you're here, I should go. I still have some things to do." She said.

"Me also." Says Deme and stormed out with Dallas.

"I just came to deliver some documents, sir." Fiore put the documents on the desk, slightly bowed at his boss, and left the room.

The room became quiet when the three left. Now that they were the only one left, Sire felt a little awkward. He can hear his own breath. "H-how are you?" He asked first.

"I'm okay." Joaquin tried to get up and so Sire came forward and help him. He took advantage of it and pulled him into his arms, holding him tight.

“I missed you.” he whispered.

Sire tried to pull away. “L-let me go.”

“Please, babe. Let me hold you. I’m tired.”

Upon hearing that Sire stopped pushing the Spaniard away. He let himself be held. “A-are you really alright?” he asked. “How bad is it?”

“I’m fine, really.” Joaquin pulled back slightly. “Though the damage is pretty bad.”

Sire’s eyes widened. “It is that serious then. Where were you hit?”

Joaquin pressed a hand over his heart. “Here.”

Sire frowned. “A bullet to your heart?”

Joaquin pouted as Sire didn't get what he meant. “No. On my side.” He smiled softly. “But I’m so glad you’re here. Were you worried about me?”

“I'm not. Why would I be?” Sire stammered. He hates how his voice shook. "I-I just went along with Deme since the ride was free."

Joaquin wrapped his arms around Sire’s waist. “Someone’s lying.”

“Fine. I was worried because we’re friends.” Sire mumbled.

“I don’t want to be your friend.”

Sire’s heart sank. He doesn’t even want him as a friend. Did I really hurt him that much? He pulled away. “Fine! Then Don't! I’ll go back now!" He turned to leave when Joaquin pulled him back and kissed him.

Sire’s eyes flew open. He didn’t move. He felt the softness, the warmth, the gentle pressure. His eyes fluttered shut.

Joaquin pulled back just an inch, forehead resting against his. “I want more than friends, babe.” He cupped Sire’s face. “I want you.”

Then he kissed him again—deeply, fully, claiming him at last.