Chapter 140
Haru watched his boyfriend sleep.
Even in the dimness of the bedroom, Raiven's face remained strikingly handsome. His features had softened in sleep, the tension that had become almost permanent around his eyes finally absent. His dark hair had fallen messily across his forehead, and for the first time in what felt like days, he looked peaceful.
But somehow, that peace frightened Haru more than the tension had.
There was something different about him.
Haru had noticed it the moment he returned from Sehee's house. It wasn't anything obvious enough to point to. Raiven hadn't said anything unusual. He hadn't suddenly become cold or distant. He still kissed Haru when he came home. He still asked about his day, still held him when they slept, still looked at him with that same familiar affection.
Yet something had shifted.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, the kind of change another person might overlook because there was no single moment that could be used as evidence. But Haru knew Raiven. At least, he liked to think he did.
They were boyfriends, after all.
He wasn't particularly good at dealing with emotions. Haru had never considered himself the kind of person who could sit down and patiently dissect every feeling until he understood where it came from. He preferred problems that could be solved. Give him a difficult script, a complicated scene, a career decision, even a confrontation, and he could usually figure out what needed to be done.
But emotions were different.
They refused to stay still.
And when something mattered to him, Haru had learned that ignoring it only allowed it to grow.
He had tried to bring it up.
Not directly, at first.
He had asked Raiven whether practice had been going well. He had casually asked if he had been sleeping enough. He had mentioned the state of the apartment, the meals Raiven had been skipping, the fact that he seemed distracted whenever they spoke.
Every time, Raiven had found a way around the question.
A shrug.
A smile.
A change of subject.
A quiet assurance that everything was fine.
It wasn't.
Haru knew it.
The worst part was that he didn't know how to reach him.
It had begun affecting him, too.
He had found himself distracted on set more often than he cared to admit. He missed small cues, lost track of conversations and had once stood in the wrong position long enough for the assistant director to call him back. It had inconvenienced the crew, and Haru hated that.
He had always prided himself on being professional.
Yet lately, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, his mind kept returning to the same place.
Raiven.
What was wrong with him?
And why wouldn't he tell him?
Tonight had been no different.
Haru lay beside him beneath the sheets, his body still aching from the intensity of what they had done earlier. Raiven had been rougher than usual, almost desperate in the way he had held him, kissed him and pulled him closer his hands on his hips held him tighter than usual leaving bruises. Haru wasn't complaining. There had been pleasure in it, plenty of it.
But afterward, when the room had gone quiet, that familiar feeling had returned.
Something was wrong.
There was a particular kind of fear that came when you could feel a wall slowly rising between yourself and someone you loved. It wasn't a dramatic separation. There was no argument, no slammed door, no cruel words.
Just distance.
A little more every day.
And the frightening part was that you didn't know whether touching the wall would bring it down or make it collapse completely.
Haru turned his head.
His hand moved almost instinctively toward Raiven's hair. He brushed the dark strands away from his face, his fingers lingering briefly against his temple.
This was the most peaceful he had seen him in nearly two weeks.
Haru leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead.
Then he curled closer, resting his head near Raiven's shoulder.
His heart tightened.
He wished he would talk to him.
Just once.
He didn't need some grand explanation. He didn't need Raiven to suddenly understand every complicated thing happening inside his head.
He just wanted him to let Haru in.
His eyes drifted toward the wall.
For several seconds, he stared at nothing.
Then the thought came, quiet and unwelcome.
I don't want to lose you too.
Haru swallowed.
He hated that sentence.
He hated the fear behind it even more.
Slowly, he shifted beneath the sheets and began to sit up.
He had barely moved when fingers closed around his wrist.
Haru froze.
Raiven's grip wasn't painfully tight, but it wasn't gentle either. His eyes remained closed, his breathing uneven, as though his body had reacted before his mind had fully awakened.
"I'm just going to get some water," Haru whispered.
He leaned down and pressed another quick kiss against Raiven's forehead.
After a moment, Raiven's fingers loosened.
Haru slipped free.
He stood beside the bed for a few seconds, looking down at him.
Raiven's eyes had already fallen closed again.
It was something Haru had discovered recently.
Raiven wasn't really sleeping.
His sleep was too light.
Sometimes Haru would wake in the middle of the night and find him staring at the ceiling, perfectly still, as though he had been awake for hours. Other times, Raiven would turn restlessly beneath the sheets without ever fully waking.
Tonight, at least, his eyes were closed.
Haru supposed he should be grateful for that.
Even if it wasn't real rest, perhaps it gave him a little breathing room.
He reached for the robe lying across the chair and tied it around his naked body before leaving the bedroom.
The apartment was cold.
The breeze coming through the partially opened window brushed against his skin, raising goosebumps along his arms.
Haru walked into the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator and reached for a bottle of water.
His fingers wrapped around it.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then he put it back.
His eyes moved toward the wine.
A bottle sat on the shelf, untouched.
Haru hesitated before taking it.
He poured himself a glass.
The red liquid caught the faint kitchen light as he lifted it.
He took a long swallow.
The alcohol burned pleasantly down his throat.
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
Then he heard footsteps.
Haru turned.
Raiven stood at the entrance to the kitchen.
His hair was disheveled from sleep, and his expression was still heavy with exhaustion.
His eyes immediately fell to the glass in Haru's hand.
"That isn't water."
Haru stared at him.
"Why did you wake up?"
Raiven didn't answer immediately.
He walked closer.
"Is everything okay?"
Haru almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the question was so painfully ironic.
He placed the glass down on the counter.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"
Raiven stopped.
His lips pressed together.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, predictably, Raiven looked away.
"I'm fi—"
"Don't."
The word left Haru's mouth before he could stop it.
Raiven went silent.
It wasn't loud.
Haru hadn't shouted.
But there was something in that single word that made the entire room change.
Desperation.
Fear.
Exhaustion.
All the things Haru had been holding back for days seemed to have slipped through that one syllable.
Raiven looked at him.
Haru's eyes glistened beneath the dim kitchen light. His fingers had tightened around the wine glass without him realizing it.
The glass trembled slightly between his fingers.
"Don't tell me you're fine."
His voice was quieter now.
"Please."
Raiven's expression changed.
Haru had expected resistance.
Instead, he saw something that looked almost like helplessness.
"I..."
Raiven stopped.
Haru waited.
He didn't interrupt this time.
He didn't offer a solution.
He simply stood there and waited for Raiven to find the words.
"I..." Raiven tried again.
Nothing followed.
His jaw tightened.
He looked down.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
Haru's shoulders dropped.
For a moment, he simply stood there.
Then he released a slow breath.
"I don't know either."
Raiven looked up.
Haru's eyes dropped toward the wine glass.
"I've been trying to figure out how to ask you what's wrong without making you feel like I'm cornering you."
He swallowed.
"I've asked you about practice. I've asked whether you're sleeping. I've asked whether something happened."
His voice grew quieter.
"Every time, you tell me you're fine."
Raiven said nothing.
"And I keep pretending I believe you."
That landed harder than an accusation.
Raiven's face tightened.
Haru placed the glass into the sink.
"I don't need you to tell me everything tonight."
He turned away.
"But I can't keep standing beside you and pretending I don't see it."
Raiven's eyes widened slightly.
Haru walked back toward the bedroom.
He expected Raiven to stop him.
He didn't.
That somehow hurt more.
Haru entered the bedroom and pulled back the covers.
For one brief second, he considered going to the guest room.
The thought lingered.
It would be easier.
A physical distance would give them both space. Maybe Raiven would finally realize how serious this had become.
But Haru immediately rejected the idea.
He wasn't trying to punish him.
He wasn't angry.
He was scared.
And leaving the room would only turn that fear into something neither of them could take back.
So he climbed into bed.
Raiven followed a few seconds later.
Neither spoke.
Haru turned onto his side, facing away from him.
There were several inches between them.
It wasn't much.
Yet tonight, it felt enormous.
The mattress shifted as Raiven settled beneath the covers.
Haru waited.
He could feel Raiven looking at the back of his head.
Neither moved.
Eventually, the mattress dipped slightly as Raiven turned toward him.
Haru closed his eyes.
He wanted to reach back.
He wanted to take his hand.
He wanted to tell him that whatever was happening, they could deal with it together.
But he didn't.
Minutes passed.
Then longer.
Haru remained awake.
Behind him, Raiven's breathing gradually slowed.
But Haru knew better now.
He knew the difference between sleep and pretending to sleep.
So he remained still.
Two people lying in the same bed.
Two bodies separated by only a few inches.
And yet, for the first time since they had begun this relationship, Haru felt as though he had no idea how to reach the person lying beside him.
He stared into the darkness.
His chest tightened again.
Please don't make me lose you.
The thought remained unspoken.
And perhaps that was the problem.
There were too many things between them that neither of them had said.