Narrator's P.O.V.
Kael was livid. He rushed through the party. His steps were heavy, driven by a suffocating mix of adrenaline and pure hatred. The sound of the darkroom door slamming hard into Yuri and the other guy still echoed in his mind, but it wasn't enough to soothe the burning in his chest. He felt anguished. He didn't understand how Farias could sink to such a low level just to get to him, especially since he had never done anything to harm the younger boy. He didn't know where all of that was coming from, but he certainly knew Yuri well enough to know he should never be surprised by absolutely anything that came from him—whether good or bad.
The man found his group of friends near one of the hall's circulation areas. Dani, Pedro, Pabllyo, and Lukas were talking, but they stopped the exact second Kael approached. His breathing was uneven, and the dark incubus makeup seemed to contrast even more with his anger-locked jaw. The hatred he felt was stamped on his face, and his friends knew that Kael being this angry was never a good sign.
"What is it now?" Pedro asked, his expression immediately shifting to high alert.
Kael stopped in front of them, running his trembling hands through his hair.
"He brought an old hookup of mine into the darkroom right after me," Kael fired off, his voice choked with fury, the words tumbling out almost over each other. "And that wasn't all. I was there. He started kissing the guy... and he kept looking at me. With his eyes open. While he was kissing someone else, he kept staring at me, smiling with his eyes."
A shocked silence fell over the small group. Lukas's eyes widened, incredulous at the level of malice, while Dani brought a hand to her mouth. Pedro gripped his own drink tighter, his jaw also clenching. Yuri's attitude wasn't just immature; it was cruel, calculated down to the millimeter to cause the maximum amount of pain possible.
Kael was about to continue venting when, over Pedro's shoulder, he saw the darkroom door open in the distance. Yuri was walking out.
Ávila's stomach churned. He couldn't stand to share the same oxygen as Farias in that moment, not without ending up doing something crazy. Without saying another word, Kael turned his back to his friends and quickly headed down the stairs, making his way toward the bar on the first floor. He needed air. He needed an immediate distraction.
The bar was packed, but Kael's eyes quickly locked onto Samuel's figure. And, to Kael's surprise, the boy looked different. Samuel, who always avoided drinking too much, was visibly altered. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes heavy, and a silly, loose smile played on his lips as he tried to organize some bottles.
Kael approached the counter, the tension in his shoulders relaxing minimally at the sight of that unusual scene.
"Look at you..." Kael teased, resting his elbows on the counter and cracking his first genuine smile in the last hour. "Who would've thought that you, of all people, who hates drinking, would be like this? You're a little tipsy, boy. Did you know that?"
Samuel looked up, his smile widening as he recognized Kael. He let out a nasal laugh, slurring his words a bit, and leaned over the counter to get closer to the older man. Samuel's proximity and light energy acted as a temporary balm on Kael's open wounds.
"Actually, I'm doing great, Mr. Kael," he said, spinning on his heels and smiling. "Do you want me to fill your cup?"
"Please, gorgeous." The older man handed his cup to Samuel, who quickly took it and filled it with a random drink.
"Why the ugly face?" Novaes asked him, observing the other intently. He seemed to want to look straight into Kael's soul, and Ávila knew it. It was a very constant habit of the younger boy.
"Nothing major," he replied, downing his entire cup in one go and placing it on the counter as soon as he finished the drink. "Can I get another one?"
"At this rate, you're the one who's going to get tipsy."
"I know how to take care of myself, gorgeous. But if anything happens, you can take me home," he joked.
Kael and Samuel exchanged a few playful teases, laughed, and, for a few brief minutes, the chaos on the second floor seemed to vanish from the older man's mind, becoming just a distant memory. Samuel's drunken sweetness calmed Ávila's agitated chest, reminding him that there were people there who didn't want to destroy him. He even found it cute how, upon getting a little high from the alcohol, the boy lost his filters completely. He loved that.
With his nerves a little calmer, shielded by that quick interaction and the alcohol in his own blood, Kael decided he wasn't going to hide. He was one of the organizers of that party, after all. He was going to go back, he was going to enjoy himself, and he was going to prove to Yuri—and to himself—that he wasn't shaken. He was a grown man. He couldn't let those little things get to him and ruin his night.
Kael said goodbye to Samuel and turned around. He went up the stairs and walked back to his circle of friends, taking a few deep breaths to psychologically prepare himself for what he knew was coming next. He felt in his gut that it wouldn't be so easy to deal with, but there was no one better than him at dealing with difficulties caused by other people. Even more so from someone he loved.
As he approached, he noticed that Yuri had already reintegrated into the group, chatting as if absolutely nothing deplorable had happened minutes before. Farias's cynicism was almost palpable, but Kael was determined not to take the bait. He forced a mask of absolute naturalness, slipping into the circle as if the night were perfect. He would make it so, whatever the cost.
Kael turned to Pabllyo, who was next to him, and, in a gesture of playful intimacy, ran his fingers along his friend's chin.
"Ouch!" Kael exclaimed as if in pain, looking at his own fingers with a dramatic expression. "Holy shit, I cut myself on your beard. It's sharp today, huh?"
Pabllyo let out a loud laugh, lightly shoving Kael's shoulder.
"Fuck off, Kael! Idiot!" Pabllyo cursed, laughing, since he didn't actually have a beard. The friends laughed at the joke, keeping the mood light and relaxed.
The banter served for Kael to assert his territory, showing that he was fine and in control. Fueled by this forced confidence, he made the mistake of thinking that "peace" still existed between him and his "ex." Ávila turned to Yuri. In a movement that, in the past, was routine and loaded with affection, Kael raised his hand and rested it lightly on Farias's head, in an unassuming stroke of his hair. Unfortunately, it was a habit he had formed during their brief relationship, and it had become somewhat unconscious and automatic whenever he got close to the shorter boy.
But, unlike all the other times, touching Yuri this time was like grabbing an exposed live wire.
The boy's reaction was immediate, explosive, and disproportionate. The mask of cynicism evaporated.
Yuri's eyes widened, his face twisting into an expression of pure repulsion and hatred. With a violence that caught everyone around them by surprise, he delivered a hard slap to Kael's arm, shoving the older man's hand away with all the strength he had.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" Yuri screamed, his voice tearing through the deafening music of the party, his face red with rage.
Kael lost his balance for a second, his arm stinging from the impact of the slap, while silence spread not only through the circle of friends but through everyone close enough to witness that deplorable scene.
Yuri's scream was merely the spark for the explosion.
In the very next second, the boy's mask slipped completely, giving way to a flood of cruel, unmeasured insults screamed at the top of his lungs. Yuri lost control of himself. With his eyes flooded with rage and his face contorted, he lunged at Kael, as if he wanted to physically attack him right there, in the middle of the party, ignoring all the people around them.
Kael's survival instinct screamed louder than his surprise. Before Yuri could land any blow or shove, the older man acted fast. Kael firmly grabbed both of his ex-pseudo-boyfriend's arms, blocking the boy's advance using his own strength and weight, keeping him at a safe distance.
"Are you crazy, Yuri?!" Kael bellowed, his voice projecting over the music, mixing the shock of that reaction with the accumulated indignation of the entire night.
But Yuri wasn't listening. He thrashed violently under Kael's hands, trying to break free to lunge again, cursing nonstop.
Chaos ensued in the circle. The collective paralysis lasted for a few agonizing seconds until the friends finally reacted. Cloe, one of the friends in the group who was right next to them, didn't think twice: she grabbed Yuri from behind, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him backward with immense force, dragging him away from Kael. In the same instant, Pedro and Lukas lunged in the opposite direction, grabbing Kael's shoulders and pulling him to safety, breaking the physical contact between the two once and for all.
Kael was panting, his chest rising and falling frantically as he was held back by his friends. He looked at Yuri's out-of-control figure, still trying to break free from Cloe's arms. The emotional exhaustion, reaching the limits of his pride, and the realization of the madness of that situation finally overcame any shred of diplomatic control Kael might still have had.
"Fuck you! You piece of shit!" Kael yelled, his voice cutting, lethal, and definitive, severing any bond that might have remained there.
Without waiting for a response, Kael broke free from Pedro and Lukas with a harsh jerk. He turned his back on the commotion and on the boy he (unfortunately) loved, marching toward the stairs. The urge to disappear from that suffocating environment was so overwhelming that he didn't even look back, although he could hear the sound of hurried footsteps from his entire group of friends rushing down the steps right behind him.
Kael went down the stairs quickly and heavily. But, as soon as the soles of his boots touched the first-floor ground, reality ran him over with the force of a derailed train.
The extreme adrenaline spike caused by the fight dissipated rapidly. With the shield of anger temporarily lowered, the absurd amount of alcohol he had consumed all night finally found a clear path to take total control of his body, reminding him that his system was drowning in drunkenness.
The heavy bass of the music suddenly became a dense, submerged hum. The intense lights of the dance floor began to spin nauseatingly, blurring Kael's vision until they became nothing but confusing beams of neon. The floor of the venue seemed to melt beneath his feet, losing its firmness. The acute emotional stress, the deprivation of peace, and the alcohol demanded their toll all at once, mercilessly flipping the breakers in his mind.
Until the blackout came. Absolute emptiness...
(...)
When Kael finally opened his eyes again, the world had shifted on its axis. The feeling of free-falling had disappeared, replaced by the rigid and uncomfortable support of a plastic chair backrest. He was sitting down.
His vision took a few agonizing seconds to focus, blinking heavily against the partial brightness. Gradually, the silhouettes around him took shape. He was in a more isolated corner of the first floor. Leaning over him and crouching around him were Pedro, Dani, Pabllyo, and Lukas. Their faces were bathed in deep concern, their eyes assessing every movement of the friend they knew to be, perhaps, the strongest one there, but who had, at last, crumbled.
When he finally blinked, focusing his eyes on the worried faces of his friends around him, the ringing in his ears began to give way once more to the beat of the music. He drank the water they offered him, took a few deep breaths, and, forcing a resilience that seemed endless, stood up.
He wasn't leaving. He wouldn't let Yuri's lack of control be the final memory of that night. He was going to try and save what little he had left, no matter what!
For the moments that followed, his friends created a sort of invisible barrier. A silent agreement was forged: Kael and Yuri would not share the same space for the rest of the event. And, in a way, it worked. Ávila managed to blend into the dance floor again, numbed by the alcohol and protected by the care of his group, dancing and laughing, squeezing out every drop of fun that still remained in those early morning hours.
However, as the party crept into its final hours and exhaustion began to weigh on everyone's shoulders, Verônica cut through the crowd, running toward Kael. Her expression was pale, her eyes wide with pure desperation.
"Ka, for the love of God, come quick!" Verônica called out, grabbing his arm tightly. "It's Samuel. He's really sick, I think he totally passed out!"
Kael's heart skipped a beat. The anger, the drinks, the frustration with Yuri—it all evaporated instantly. He didn't ask questions. He just followed his friend, pushing his way through the people with urgency until he reached a more secluded area of the main hall.
And there he was. Samuel was slumped in one of the plastic chairs, his head hanging back worryingly, his pale skin covered in a thin layer of cold sweat. He was completely unconscious, on the verge of alcohol poisoning. The boy who hated drinking had crossed all limits that night, possibly in an attempt to keep up with his more experienced friends when it came to drinking, or perhaps to deal with his own internal issues. The fact was that Samuel was a lightweight, and he had considerably surpassed his limit.
Kael dropped to his knees right in front of him. His protective instinct took absolute control, transforming the "incubus demon" into a completely worried caretaker.
"Sam... hey, Samuel, look at me," Kael asked, his voice firm, though laced with concern.
He held the younger boy's face with both hands, keeping his head upright so he could breathe better. With Verônica's help, Kael poured some ice-cold water on the back of Novaes's neck and face, forcing him to react. Samuel blinked his heavy eyes, his pupils dilated and unfocused, struggling to find the source of the voice calling him.
When Samuel's eyes finally met Kael's, a weak murmur escaped his lips.
"Kael... Kael..." Samuel babbled, his voice hoarse and slurred, almost inaudible over the sound of the party.
He wouldn't stop repeating it. The whole time, amidst the feverish delirium of extreme drunkenness, Samuel only called out for him. That desperate call hit Ávila right in the chest. Unlike Yuri, who screamed his name to humiliate him, Samuel called for him as if Kael were the only thing capable of keeping him safe in the world.
Kael kept talking to him, running a hand through his sweaty hair, wetting the boy's lips with fresh water until his breathing stabilized a bit. But Novaes's condition was still critical. He needed a bed. He needed real care.
"I'm going to take him to my place. Call a car for me, please," Kael told his friends, the decision already made with no room whatsoever for argument.
When the app confirmed the ride, Kael tried to lift Samuel, wrapping one of the boy's arms over his own shoulders. But it was useless. Samuel's legs felt like jelly; he had no strength at all to stand, sliding toward the floor. Samuel tipped over and ended up dragging Kael down with him, which considerably irritated the older man.
Without hesitating a single second, Kael lowered himself a bit more, slipped one arm behind the boy's back and the other under his knees, lifting him from the floor in a firm movement. He carried Samuel in his arms, supporting all the younger boy's weight against his chest. His annoyance at the younger boy's state gave him enough strength to lift him without the slightest problem. And so he walked. Kael descended the steps of the venue, walked through the exit, and crossed the cold sidewalk with Samuel cradled in his arms, only allowing himself to let go when the headlights of the car illuminated the street and the vehicle parked.
He settled Samuel carefully in the backseat, sitting right next to him and pulling the boy's head to rest on his shoulder. The driver started the car, and the silence of the vehicle contrasted violently with the madness they had left behind.
It was then that Samuel, still with his eyes closed and his cheek squished against Kael's jacket, began to mumble.
"You know, sir..." Samuel murmured, slurring his words toward the driver, who was watching them through the rearview mirror. "I like someone so, so much... He is the most incredible and beautiful person I've ever met. I like him a lot, I really do, but he doesn't give me the time of day. He likes the other guy. He always prefers the other guy..."
Kael felt a sudden lump in his throat, but this time it wasn't from pain. He looked at the vulnerable boy lying on his shoulder. Ávila's heart warmed, melting away any remnant of the coldness the night had demanded of him. It was of such raw, childish sincerity that it bordered on adorable. He knew exactly who Samuel was talking about, and that warmed his chest in a way he had forgotten how it felt.
With a restrained, sweet, and melancholy smile, Kael stroked the boy's curls, caressing him gently.
"Hush, Sam. Go to sleep," Kael whispered, his voice overflowing with an affection he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time, as the car cut through the dark streets toward his apartment...