He Hates Me, He Loves Me Not

Heath can't believe it.

Damon isn't following him. Nobody is behind him. No one is calling his name with an apology. He's walking out yet Damon is not chasing after him. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes; it feels like he's been slapped in the face. More than anger, he feels shame.

He doesn't want to leave. He wants to be comforted and doted on. He wants hugs, kisses, and words of reassurance. He wants that deep voice to tell him that it will always be him—just like before, but now that he has taken the first step, he can't turn back. His pride won't allow him to, not over his dead body, so he lets the night swallow his shadow.

On the way to his family home, he tries his best not to think about it. Closing his eyes, he ignores the image of Damon's indifferent gaze on him. It's not the first, and he knows it won't be the last. Damon is slipping away no matter how tight he holds, loose sand over his fingers.

The car stops and Heath takes a peek through the window. The scene outside is noisy. Several men in suits drunkenly make their way home while students rush to the life of the party. A family is on their way to a celebration, their child on top of her father's shoulders. Couples all around walk hand in hand, putting no one but their partners in their eyes. It's so vibrant, so alive, that Heath resents it at once.

Why are they so happy when he's not? Try as he may to deny it, Damon is changing. Even he can see that. The Alpha is often too tired, too busy. As if a day shrunk to less than 24 hours, there's no room to spend with Heath anymore.

Is it because of how long they've been together? Is it because there's no more thrill, no more spark to light up the darkness they both pretend isn't inside them? Or is it because of that Ome— He slams back against the headrest to dispel his thoughts. The dull pain does its job, bringing him back to reality.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter why. All that matters is that Heath isn't so sure what to do anymore.

Maybe … maybe he shouldn't have stopped. Maybe he should have kept going. Those drinks won't hurt, right? Damon was so pliant then, big Alpha at the palm of his hands. No fights, no arguments, only the bliss of being together forever.

No—he bumps his head again. There's no need for that now, not when there's no threat lingering around them. It's the only reason why he agreed to such a dangerous idea in the first place.

He'll just have to make it work—like always, like before. It's him and Damon against the world, right?

As the car pulls into the driveway of his family home, the foreboding sense of losing his first love wraps around him again. He shivers at the cold, the chill dancing around his skin. What is he to do when he really does lose Damon? It's all he's ever known, ever felt so strongly about, that being with him is already a part of Heath's identity.

He walks in big strides to the main door, determined to relax his noisy mind with a warm bath. However, just as he's entering, his phone rings.

Upon seeing the unsaved number, Heath hesitates. It doesn't feel right to answer—hasn't felt right since the first time—but what's done is done.

He picks up the call. What is he so afraid of when he knows he won't do it again?

--

Adam misses being in bed before 10 in the evening.

He misses having free time on the weekends, sleeping a full eight hours every night, and walking leisurely to buy coffee in the morning. He doesn't want to be running around, looking into every person President Lin met in the past year. Does he even know how long that list is? Why can't he narrow it down a little, maybe name some possible suspects?

As he crosses a rival company's chairman off the list, Adam realizes that the life of the grind is not for him. So what if he's a top-earning employee? What's the use of that money when he doesn't even have a single second left to enjoy it?

To make matters worse, he can't complain to his friends or his family. They'll say that he's just humble bragging, showing off how honorable working as the Head Secretary of the Lin Finance Group is, but Adam doesn't want this. Why will he aim for the sky when he's afraid of heights? The ground is good for him. It's solid, it's stable, and he can lie down whenever he wants.

For the hundredth time, he finds himself thinking about his predecessor. It isn't until he's struggling like this does he realize how extraordinary Lucy must be. Knowing that she did her work single-handedly for years brings his appreciation for her to a newfound level.

Even with another pair of hands sharing his workload, Adam is barely getting by. So, he buries his shame to the ground and shoots a text to Lucy, asking for help. The message is simple and concise, asking if there's anyone in particular that might have a vendetta against President Lin, and although he's not meant to be sharing confidential info with her, he doesn't care. There's a part of him that's starting to think that if he gets fired, it'll be better.

However, unlike before, Lucy doesn't cooperate. She's not even curious to know why Adam is investigating this, replying with: [Why should I help that bastard?]

Adam doesn't have anything to say. Of course, he knows whom she is referring to; he isn't shocked by the insult either. Everyone in the secretarial team gossips about the possible reasons why Lucy left, and Damon's attitude is winning the voting poll by a large margin.

This type of lunch break conversation won't be as interesting if not for the fact that Lucy worked with Damon for years without a single complaint. Then, all of a sudden, she leaves. Who won't be intrigued by that?

Adam won't. He's not intrigued at all. He has dark circles under his eyes and he wants to take a nap. With his last hope gone, he wails—in his mind—before continuing his work like nothing happened.

He prays that by tomorrow, this investigation will get somewhere. All he asks for is a single lead.