The soft murmur of voices in the movie theater surrounded Victor, but all he could focus on was the quiet, electric space between him and Damien. His leg brushed against Damien's once more, and the touch sent a ripple of tension through him. He tried to focus on the film, but it was impossible. Damien's presence next to him was overwhelming, magnetic, and Victor couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to crack, something was already shifting between them.

Damien, however, seemed perfectly at ease, relaxed, his hand resting carelessly on the armrest between them. He casually pulled out his phone, the glow lighting up his face. Victor's gaze darted to it involuntarily. Damien swiped through a few messages before leaning back in his seat, seemingly absorbed in the film again.

But Victor's attention was no longer on the movie. His heart began to race, his pulse thumping in his ears, as he stared at the phone.

Lana

Victor didn't even realize he was leaning closer until his breath caught in his throat.

You up?

He blinked. His stomach twisted in a sick, tight knot. The message was simple, but the implications—he didn't even need to see the rest. But he couldn't help himself. He looked.

The next message made his blood boil.

You're looking good lately, Damien. Can't wait to see you again.

The words felt like daggers, slicing through the fragile delusion Victor had been clinging to. Lana—the name, the flirtation—it was all so casual, so effortless. Like Damien had been giving her all the things Victor had wanted, but never asked for.

He wanted to look away. He knew he should. But he couldn't.

Another message came through, a string of playful emojis that only made Victor's blood run colder. A sick realization dawned on him. Damien had been stringing him along—had been pretending to care, while someone else was getting the real thing. And for some reason, that didn't just sting. It infuriated him.

His fingers clenched into fists, and without thinking, he reached forward, yanking Damien's phone from his hand.

Damien's eyes snapped wide open, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

Victor's voice came out like a growl. "Who the hell is Lana?"

Damien's face twisted, the sudden confusion shifting into something else. He leaned forward, his voice a whisper but filled with a sudden sharpness. "Give that back."

But Victor didn't move. Instead, his eyes blazed with an intensity that made the air around them feel thick. "You think I don't notice?" he snapped, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You think I don't see you playing around with her like it's nothing?"

Damien's face paled as the realization hit him. His voice faltered. "Victor, it's—it's not like that—"

Victor was no longer listening. His chest was heaving with anger, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "Not like that?" He laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You think you can kiss me, get me all tangled up, and then go off and text some other girl like I don't matter?"

Damien was visibly flustered now, his hands shaking as he reached for the phone. "Victor—please, it's not—"

But Victor had snapped. In one swift motion, he stood up, and before Damien could react, he slapped the phone out of his hands with a violent motion. It flew across the row, landing with a soft thud a few seats away.

The impact of the slap rang out like a gunshot in the dark theater. Damien's eyes widened, shock freezing his expression. His voice was a desperate whisper, tinged with something unfamiliar: fear. "Victor... what the hell...?"

Victor's body was a taut coil of rage, his fists clenched at his sides. He was shaking, trembling, but it wasn't with fear—it was with fury. He took a step closer, leaning down so that his face was inches from Damien's. "Don't you dare play me. Don't you fucking dare."

Damien's eyes flickered, panic creeping into his chest. "Victor, please, you're not thinking clearly, okay? Just... just calm down—"

But Victor couldn't. He couldn't think, couldn't control the flood of emotions surging through him. It was like a dam had broken, everything he had been holding in rushing to the surface. He grabbed Damien by the collar, yanking him forward, their faces so close that Victor could feel the heat of his breath.

"No," Victor spat, voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to kiss me, to pull me in, and then pretend like I don't fucking matter."

Damien's face shifted from confusion to something deeper—genuine fear. He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come. His throat constricted, his wide eyes flickering between Victor's rage-filled gaze and the anger that was clouding his own vision.

"I—Victor, I—I don't—" Damien stammered, but Victor wasn't listening. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the anger and betrayal drowning everything else out. He pushed Damien back into his seat, his hands still shaking with raw emotion.

For a moment, everything was silent, except for the distant hum of the movie, and the shaky breaths coming from both of them. Victor's chest was still heaving, his heart racing, his whole body coiled with adrenaline.

Damien looked like he was on the verge of crying, his face pale and confused, his hand pressed to his cheek where the slap had left an angry red mark. His voice was a quiet, broken thing, barely above a whisper. "Victor... I never meant to hurt you."

Victor's eyes softened for a moment, but only for a moment. He couldn't let himself feel sorry for Damien. Not right now. Not after everything.

"Then why the hell are you doing this?" Victor hissed, his voice quieter now but still full of venom. "Why the hell do you keep doing this if you don't want to hurt me?"

Damien flinched as though the words physically hurt him. He opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. Instead, he just shook his head slowly, his gaze locked with Victor's, utterly lost.

Victor stood there, panting, the weight of the chaos in his chest still not fully sinking in. He'd crossed a line, but he didn't care. Damien had dragged him in, tangled his feelings in knots, and now it was a mess he couldn't untangle.

The soft murmur of voices in the movie theater surrounded Victor, but all he could focus on was the quiet, electric space between him and Damien. His leg brushed against Damien's once more, and the touch sent a ripple of tension through him. He tried to focus on the film, but it was impossible. Damien's presence next to him was overwhelming, magnetic, and Victor couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to crack, something was already shifting between them.

Damien, however, seemed perfectly at ease, relaxed, his hand resting carelessly on the armrest between them. He casually pulled out his phone, the glow lighting up his face. Victor's gaze darted to it involuntarily. Damien swiped through a few messages before leaning back in his seat, seemingly absorbed in the film again.

But Victor's attention was no longer on the movie. His heart began to race, his pulse thumping in his ears, as he stared at the phone.

Lana

Victor didn't even realize he was leaning closer until his breath caught in his throat.

You up?

He blinked. His stomach twisted in a sick, tight knot. The message was simple, but the implications—he didn't even need to see the rest. But he couldn't help himself. He looked.

The next message made his blood boil.

You're looking good lately, Damien. Can't wait to see you again.

The words felt like daggers, slicing through the fragile delusion Victor had been clinging to. Lana—the name, the flirtation—it was all so casual, so effortless. Like Damien had been giving her all the things Victor had wanted, but never asked for.

He wanted to look away. He knew he should. But he couldn't.

Another message came through, a string of playful emojis that only made Victor's blood run colder. A sick realization dawned on him. Damien had been stringing him along—had been pretending to care, while someone else was getting the real thing. And for some reason, that didn't just sting. It infuriated him.

His fingers clenched into fists, and without thinking, he reached forward, yanking Damien's phone from his hand.

Damien's eyes snapped wide open, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

Victor's voice came out like a growl. "Who the hell is Lana?"

Damien's face twisted, the sudden confusion shifting into something else. He leaned forward, his voice a whisper but filled with a sudden sharpness. "Give that back."

But Victor didn't move. Instead, his eyes blazed with an intensity that made the air around them feel thick. "You think I don't notice?" he snapped, gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You think I don't see you playing around with her like it's nothing?"

Damien's face paled as the realization hit him. His voice faltered. "Victor, it's—it's not like that—"

Victor was no longer listening. His chest was heaving with anger, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "Not like that?" He laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "You think you can kiss me, get me all tangled up, and then go off and text some other girl like I don't matter?"

Damien was visibly flustered now, his hands shaking as he reached for the phone. "Victor—please, it's not—"

But Victor had snapped. In one swift motion, he stood up, and before Damien could react, he slapped the phone out of his hands with a violent motion. It flew across the row, landing with a soft thud a few seats away.

The impact of the slap rang out like a gunshot in the dark theater. Damien's eyes widened, shock freezing his expression. His voice was a desperate whisper, tinged with something unfamiliar: fear. "Victor... what the hell...?"

Victor's body was a taut coil of rage, his fists clenched at his sides. He was shaking, trembling, but it wasn't with fear—it was with fury. He took a step closer, leaning down so that his face was inches from Damien's. "Don't you dare play me. Don't you fucking dare."

Damien's eyes flickered, panic creeping into his chest. "Victor, please, you're not thinking clearly, okay? Just... just calm down—"

But Victor couldn't. He couldn't think, couldn't control the flood of emotions surging through him. It was like a dam had broken, everything he had been holding in rushing to the surface. He grabbed Damien by the collar, yanking him forward, their faces so close that Victor could feel the heat of his breath.

"No," Victor spat, voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to kiss me, to pull me in, and then pretend like I don't fucking matter."

Damien's face shifted from confusion to something deeper—genuine fear. He opened his mouth, but the words didn't come. His throat constricted, his wide eyes flickering between Victor's rage-filled gaze and the anger that was clouding his own vision.

"I—Victor, I—I don't—" Damien stammered, but Victor wasn't listening. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the anger and betrayal drowning everything else out. He pushed Damien back into his seat, his hands still shaking with raw emotion.

For a moment, everything was silent, except for the distant hum of the movie, and the shaky breaths coming from both of them. Victor's chest was still heaving, his heart racing, his whole body coiled with adrenaline.

Damien looked like he was on the verge of crying, his face pale and confused, his hand pressed to his cheek where the slap had left an angry red mark. His voice was a quiet, broken thing, barely above a whisper. "Victor... I never meant to hurt you."

Victor's eyes softened for a moment, but only for a moment. He couldn't let himself feel sorry for Damien. Not right now. Not after everything.

"Then why the hell are you doing this?" Victor hissed, his voice quieter now but still full of venom. "Why the hell do you keep doing this if you don't want to hurt me?"

Damien flinched as though the words physically hurt him. He opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. Instead, he just shook his head slowly, his gaze locked with Victor's, utterly lost.

Victor stood there, panting, the weight of the chaos in his chest still not fully sinking in. He'd crossed a line, but he didn't care. Damien had dragged him in, tangled his feelings in knots, and now it was a mess he couldn't untangle.

He didn't say another word. Without another glance at Damien, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the theater, his mind a whirl of emotions, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what would come next, but he knew one thing for sure: whatever it was, it was going to be messy.

Damien had no idea what he had just started.

He didn't say another word. Without another glance at Damien, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the theater, his mind a whirl of emotions, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what would come next, but he knew one thing for sure: whatever it was, it was going to be messy.

Damien had no idea what he had just started.