The Devil You Know

ELIJAH

I pushed the door open and froze.

The apartment was dim except for a lamp by the couch.

At first, I didn’t understand what I was seeing, just shapes, movement, noise that didn’t belong in our space.

Then everything clicked at once.

My stomach dropped.

I couldn’t move.

For a few seconds, I just stood there, taking in the mess of clothes, the smell of perfume mixed with sweat, the sound of my own pulse in my ears.

“Mila..” I said. My voice came out small, broken.

She turned, startled for half a breath, then her expression hardened.

My girlfriend was in-between two big guys, taking two big cocks at the same time.

My heart dropped.

She doesn't even let me fuck her second hole, she said she doesn't like it.

She wrapped herself in the blanket from the couch and stared at me like I was the one who’d walked into the wrong place.

The two dudes mumbled something I couldn't hear and lazily picked up their clothes.

“Eli,” she said. Flat. Tired.

“What are you doing here.”

I blinked at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

She looked toward the door as one of them walks out. “Just… give me a second.”

The second man mumbled something. “Yo Mila, we gon’ finish this or what? I'm horny as fuck.”

“Get the fuck out, Tony.” She gave him the middle finger.

He walked out and disappeared into the hallway. The door shut behind him.

The silence after that felt like static.

I swallowed hard. “You’re kidding me, right?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she rubbed her temples like she had a headache. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“See what?” My voice cracked. “You and.. whoever that was? Mila, are you out of your mind? Two men?”

“Eli, don’t,” she said. “Please don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” I laughed, but it came out shaky. “You were with someone else in our apartment. In our bed.”

Her eyes flashed. “It’s not our bed. It’s mine.”

That stung more than anything she could have said. “Wow,” I whispered.

She sighed, crossing her arms. “You knew I wasn’t happy.”

“That doesn’t make this okay!”

“You never satisfy me, you know that.” she said quietly, eyes darting away. “I needed something different. Something that made me feel alive again.”

“By sleeping with random people?”

She met my gaze then, sharp and defensive. “Don’t make it sound dirtier than it is.”

“Mila, how else am I supposed to make it sound?”

She didn’t answer. The silence stretched between us until I felt like I might choke on it.

Finally, I said, “If you’re not happy, then talk to me. Don’t humiliate me like this.”

She shrugged, almost like she was tired of the whole conversation. “We've talked. You never listen.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” she snapped. “You act like you know me, but you don’t. We both know why I keep doing this. Stop lying to yourself.”

My hands were shaking. “So what, this is who you really are? Someone who lies and cheats?”

Her jaw tightened. “Don’t call me that.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “You've done it before. But if the shoe fits..”

“Stop,” she said sharply. “You don’t get to shame me because you can’t handle what I need.”

“What you need?” I took a step closer. “You mean this open-relationship crap you keep talking about?”

She nodded once. “Yes. I told you before, you said no, so… here we are.”

I stared at her. “You could’ve just left.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“Then what do you want, Mila?” I asked.

She looked down at the floor for a second. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “I don’t know. I just know it’s not this. Not you watching me every time I breathe, waiting for me to be perfect again.”

“I never asked you to be perfect.”

“You wanted me to be safe,” she said. “Predictable. And I can’t.”

I felt something crack in my chest. “Then stop fucking half of New York just to prove you can.”

That one landed. She flinched a little, her eyes softening before she turned away. “That’s not fair,” she muttered.

“It’s the truth.”

She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. “You want to know what else is true? You have a freaking small dick that can't even make me cum.”

“Stop..” My voice came out as a whisper.

A painful one.

Her mouth trembled slightly before she pressed her lips together. “You’re making me sound like a terrible person.”

“You’re acting like one,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what it’s like inside my head.”

“Then tell me.”

She exhaled slowly, looking past me toward the rain-streaked window. “I’m leaving,” she said.

I blinked. “Leaving where?”

“Home,” she said. “Barcelona. My mom’s getting married, my brother’s been calling nonstop. I can’t stay here.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“I was going to.”

“When? After I found out like this?”

Her eyes glistened for a second. “It just happened faster than I thought.”

“I'll go with you,” I said.

She shook her head. “I highly doubt my family would like that.”

“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You always want that. That’s why this doesn’t work.”

“Because I care about you?”

“Because you smother me,” she said. “You love me so much you leave no room for anything else.”

I stared at her, trying to find the girl I used to know, the one who used to laugh at nothing, who’d lie across my chest on Sunday mornings and tell me about her day.

I couldn’t see her anymore.

“Don’t do this,” I said.

“It’s already done,” she whispered.

“Mila..”

“You’ll be fine. You always land on your feet.” She cut me off, shaking her head.

“Don’t tell me that,” I said. “Don’t.”

She looked at me for a long moment. There was something in her eyes, maybe regret, maybe fear, but she turned away before I could name it.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No, you’re not.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “You’ll hate me less if you think I am.”

I took a step closer. “I couldn’t hate you if I tried.”

She met my eyes again, and for the first time all night, she looked unsure. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.”

“Eli…” she said softly, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t.”

I laughed once, bitter and tired. “Too late. You've already met my mother.”

She looked like she might cry but didn’t. Instead, she tightened her grip on the blanket and said, “You need to let me go.”

I stared at her, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

I took another step until I was close enough to see the tiny scar on her lip, the one she got from falling off her bike as a kid. “I love you,” I said.

Her eyes widened. For a moment she didn’t move.

The words hung there between us, raw, stupid, impossible to take back.

“You will not like my brother.” She smiled.