Chapter 11
Nathan's POV
Kieran didn't rush.
The aftermath was awkward, for me at least. Clothes were picked up and put on slowly, deliberately, while his gaze was kept on me.
I remained on the bed, the sheets tangled around my legs, my body still heavy, still trying to settle.
Glances were stolen.
And they were noticed.
A smirk was given in response.
"I heard about your date... with Zane."
My chest tightened, but I didn't reply was given. My eyes were kept forward, as if the words had not heard.
The mattress dipped, and he was suddenly closer.
"You like him, don't you."
My chin was lifted by his fingers, my face forced toward his. His eyes held mine, searching, knowing.
No answer was given.
A faint smile appeared, like the truth had already been decided for me.
I was released, and he moved to sit at the edge of the bed.
"So you think you can just walk away."
His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful.
"Charm your way into his heart."
My fingers tightened in the sheets, but I stayed silent.
He stood.
And something shifted.
"Well… here's what's going to happen."
My attention was drawn to him immediately.
"You're going to go out with him."
Confusion flickered, though it was quickly suppressed.
"Have fun."
His tone remained calm. Too calm.
"And if he asks you to be his boyfriend—"
A pause was left hanging.
"You'll say yes."
My head turned sharply toward him, disbelief rising, but I just stared, saying nothing.
He stepped closer.
"But—"
Then his voice dropped.
"Never let him touch you."
The words were delivered without force, yet they settled heavily. Not a warning.
A rule.
Final.
He approached again, and instinctively, I leaned back. But no restraint was used this time.
Instead, his hand was lifted to my hair.
Fingers were slid through it gently, slowly, as though something fragile was being handled.
The contrast made it worse.
A strand was brushed aside.
A faint smile followed.
"You belong... to me. Don't ever forget that."
Then he turned and left.
The door was closed behind him.
Silence filled the room.
I remained where I was, unmoving.
My chest felt tight.
My thoughts refused to settle.
What kind of sick game… was being played?
---
The weekend
Zane's POV
I wore a leather jacket, I had a last look in the mirror before I picked up my keys. The drive there had been quicker than expected, though it didn't feel that way.
Too many thoughts had filled the space.
I parked my car, and I stepped out, making my way inside.
He came down a moment later.
For a second, everything else was forgotten.
Nathan was dressed simply, yet it suited him too well. A white shirt, a vintage orange vest layered over it, and carton-colored trousers. His hair had been parted in the middle, framing his face softly.
I had almost forgotten how to breathe.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," I replied.
A pause followed, brief but noticeable.
"Shall we."
A small smile was given from him, small but real, and a nod followed.
He walked ahead, and I followed behind, my gaze lingering longer than it should have.
I opened the car door for him.
"Thank you," he said before getting in.
I moved to the driver's side and got in as well, starting the engine shortly after.
The drive began.
Quietly.
Too quietly.
His attention was kept on the window, his reflection faintly visible against the glass. Something about him felt distant.
Like he was there—
but not fully.
I glanced at him once.
Then again.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move much either.
Just… stayed there, lost somewhere I couldn't reach.
My grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Not like this.
The silence stretched between us, heavier with every passing second, and all that could be done was to keep driving—
and pretend it wasn't bothering me more than it should.
---
Nathan's POV
I got dressed slowly, my gaze fixed on the mirror.
Kieran's voice was remembered.
"You'll go out with him… but never let him touch you."
My fingers tightened slightly at my side.
There was no desire to go anymore.
But it was done anyway.
I straightened my shirt, adjusted my vest, and took a breath before stepping out.
Downstairs, Zane was already there.
The moment I was seen, a smile was given to me.
Warm.
Effortless.
It made something twist in my chest.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," he replied.
"Shall we."
I nodded, and we walked out together.
He opened the car door for me.
"Thank you."
I got in.
He followed shortly after, and the drive began.
Silence filled the space.
My attention was kept on the window, but nothing was really seen.
What am I doing.
The thought came quietly.
This couldn't continue.
Kieran would keep controlling everything.
And I was letting him.
My jaw tightened slightly.
He's sick.
The thought came sharper this time.
And yet—
his voice was still there.
"You'll say yes."
"Never let him touch you."
I exhaled.
Zane's reflection appeared faintly in the window.
He kept stealing glances.
Guilt settled deeper.
The car came to a stop before I realized we had arrived.
"Nathan."
My name was called.
"We're here."
"Oh."
The word came out softer than expected.
The door was opened before I could move.
Zane stood there, waiting.
"Thanks," I said, stepping out.
Guilt settled deeper.
This wasn't fair to him.
We entered the gallery together.
It was large.
Quiet.
Refined.
People greeted him as we passed—subtle nods, quiet respect.
We walked further in, and then—
my steps slowed.
A painting caught my attention.
It was impossible to ignore.
A lone figure stood at the center, painted in fractured strokes of deep crimson and fading gold. The background was chaotic—shadows layered over the outline of a city—but the figure remained still, untouched, its face blurred just enough to feel distant.
Like it existed—
but didn't belong anywhere.
I stared.
"Captivating, isn't it."
Zane's voice came softly.
I nodded.
"The artist's name—"
"Rae."
"I know."
My eyes didn't leave the canvas.
"He was an orphan… left his town chasing something bigger."
The words came easily.
"Worked for years. Survived however he could."
A pause.
"Then someone noticed him."
Silence followed.
When I turned, Zane was already looking at me.
"Wow… you really know a lot about him."
A small shrug was given.
"I want to be like him someday."
A smile formed on his lips.
Then suddenly—
my hand was taken.
My body stiffened instantly.
For a second, my fingers almost pulled away.
But they didn't.
"Come. Let me show you something."
I was pulled along.
A separate room was entered.
Canvases filled the space.
Rae's paintings.
Real ones.
Not copies.
My breath caught slightly.
"I've only seen these in books…"
"It's different in person."
"It feels… alive."
"You can see everything he felt, through his paintings."
Zane watched me quietly.
"Why don't you try."
My gaze shifted to him.
The canvas.
The brush.
"If you don't want to—"
"It's fine."
The words came quickly.
Too quickly.
I sat down before I could think.
I picked the brush.
It felt light.
My eyes lifted to him.
"Would you like to be the model?"
A grin spread across his face.
"Say no more."
He stepped forward dramatically, striking a pose.
Legs apart.
Hand raised.
Like he was about to fly.
I stared—
then laughed.
"Only if you can hold that for more than an hour."
A pause.
"Just sit."
"Alright."
He laughed softly and sat down properly this time.
"How should I sit."
"However you're comfortable."
He nodded.
He settled in.
The sunlight filtered through the window, resting on him gently.
Softening everything.
For a moment—
it felt easy.
Quiet.
Normal.
The brush was lifted.
Paint touched the canvas.
But my hand slowed.
His face was being studied.
The way the light hit his eyes.
The way he looked at me—
open.
Unguarded.
Something in my chest tightened again.
If things were different…
The brush paused mid-air.
"Never let him touch you."
My grip tightened slightly.
The brush moved again.
Faster this time.
Like the thought needed to be buried.
"You're really focused," Zane said softly.
A small nod was given.
"I like this side of you."
My chest tightened.
But I didn't reply.
Because if I did—
something might slip.
And I couldn't afford that.
Not here.
Not with him.
Not when everything already felt like it was slipping out of control.