Xavier stood at the edge of the crowded party, his body tense as the music thudded in his chest. Laughter, voices, and the clinking of glasses buzzed around him, but he felt utterly disconnected. Each passing second seemed to stretch on, the noise around him a harsh contrast to the deafening silence in his mind.
His thoughts were a jumbled mess—his father's harsh words, the tension with the choir, but most hauntingly, Kamsi. Her face, twisted with hurt and confusion, replayed in his mind over and over. He had pushed her too far, and now he could never take that back.
The party, once vibrant and loud, became unbearable. His breath quickened, the weight in his chest unbearable. Without a word to anyone, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, his movements mechanical.
Damon, mid-dance, glanced up. "Hey, where—" But Xavier was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. Damon frowned but shrugged it off, returning to the rhythm of the music.
Outside, the rain pounded down, an unrelenting torrent soaking Xavier's clothes instantly. The cold, biting water seeped through his jacket, but he didn't notice. His mind was consumed by one thought—Kamsi.
Her balcony was just across the narrow gap from his, the soft glow from her room spilling onto the wet pavement, casting long shadows. He could see the faint outline of her figure through the curtains. His chest tightened. The thought of her, sitting there alone, unaware of the storm raging inside him, felt suffocating.
He should have let it go. He should've stayed away. But the guilt, the raw ache of seeing her hurt because of him, refused to let him stand still. He had to make it right.
Without a second thought, Xavier climbed over the railing of his balcony. The rain made the surface slick, but he didn't hesitate. His heart pounded in his chest as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He jumped the gap, landing lightly on the wet floor of her balcony with barely a sound.
The sudden noise startled Kamsi. She spun around, her wide eyes locking onto his drenched form. "Xavier?" she gasped, standing up quickly. "What are you doing here?"
There was a tremor in her voice—shock, confusion, and something else, something softer. She regarded him as though he were a figment of her imagination, someone she hadn't been sure she wanted to see.
Xavier's breath came in uneven gasps, the rain streaming down his face, mingling with his tears. He didn't care how he looked—his thoughts were consumed by one thing: making amends. "I…" His voice cracked, raw and desperate. "I'm sorry."
Kamsi crossed her arms defensively, her posture closed off. "What are you talking about?"
"I was foolish," Xavier muttered, taking a hesitant step forward. His voice was thick with emotion, each word heavy with regret. "I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. You didn't deserve any of that, Kamsi."
She didn't respond immediately, her gaze flickering between his face and the ground as she seemed to search for the right words. The anger she had held onto for so long softened, if only for a brief moment. It was clear—she was torn. Her heart ached, but her mind still carried the weight of his betrayal.
Xavier moved closer, his hand reaching out, trembling. "I know nothing I say can take away the hurt, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying to show you how much you mean to me."
Kamsi inhaled sharply, her body stiffening as he approached. He reached out, his arms encircling her tightly. She hesitated, her hands instinctively pushing against his chest, but something in the rawness of his embrace gave her pause. His grip was tight, desperate, filled with so much emotion that she couldn't bring herself to push him away entirely.
"I'm so sorry," Xavier whispered, burying his face in the curve of her neck. His tears mixed with the rain, dripping down her skin. "I should have told you everything, but I was too scared. I should have never pushed you away." His voice faltered, shaking with remorse. "Please, forgive me."
Kamsi's breath hitched, her heart racing in her chest as she felt the weight of his words. His apology was all-consuming, his pain palpable. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his jacket, torn between the anger she still carried and the undeniable longing she felt for him.
For a moment, she allowed herself to relax into his embrace, the warmth of his arms contrasting with the cold rain. "Xavier…" Her voice was soft, tentative, unsure of how to navigate the emotions swirling inside her.
Xavier pulled back slightly, his hands resting gently on her shoulders, his gaze searching her face. His dark eyes were filled with raw sincerity, the rain on his cheeks blurring the distinction between his tears and the water from the storm. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. "Give me a chance to make things right."
Kamsi's eyes flickered, her heart torn. She felt the anger, the hurt, and the longing all collide in her chest. But Xavier's apology, his vulnerability, was undeniable. The sound of the rain falling around them seemed to echo the conflict within her.
She bit her lip, her resolve crumbling as she finally exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just a bit. "Xavier, this doesn't fix everything," she said softly, her voice steady but laced with uncertainty.
"I know," he replied quickly, his hands falling away from her shoulders. "But it's a start. And I'll do whatever it takes to prove it."
Kamsi didn't answer, but for the first time in a long while, she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe this wasn't the end, but a new beginning—one that she wasn't sure she was ready for, but that she was willing to consider.
Inside, the party continued with all its noise and chaos. Gilbert sat at the bar, slumped over with a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring into the amber liquid as if it could give him the answers he so desperately sought. His mind, however, was far from the drink in front of him. He couldn't shake the image of Kamsi and Xavier earlier—together.
Alexander stood nearby, watching him with a steady, appraising gaze. The tension between them was palpable, like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
"Alright, that's enough," Alexander said, reaching for Gilbert's glass.
Gilbert jerked away, his grip tightening. "Let me wallow," he muttered, bitterness in his voice.
Alexander wasn't having it. "Wallowing won't fix anything."
Damon, standing against the wall with a half-smile on his face, spoke up. "He's been like this since the talk earlier. Saw her with some guy... looked like her boyfriend."
Alexander raised a brow, his tone sharp. "Still hung up on her?"
Gilbert let out a bitter laugh, his head tilting back as he stared at the ceiling. "Hung up? That's an understatement. I'm better than him, you know. What does she see in that guy?"
Alexander's patience snapped. "You walked away from her, Gilbert. You have no right to be jealous now."
Gilbert flinched, gripping the glass even harder. "I didn't have a choice," he muttered, his voice quieter. "I couldn't… I couldn't be the man she needed."
Alexander leaned in closer, his voice calm but firm. "You can't change the past, Gilbert. But if you keep wallowing in self-pity, you'll never change the future either."
Gilbert's eyes flickered—something between hope, frustration, and desperation. He set his glass down with a heavy thud and pushed himself to his feet. "You're right," he muttered. "I'll fix it. I'll get her back."
Damon exchanged a glance with Alexander, both of them watching as Gilbert stumbled toward the door.
"I don't think that's what he meant," Damon said quietly, his voice tinged with concern.
Alexander sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "If he doesn't crash and burn first."
As Gilbert disappeared into the night, his resolve firm, the weight of his words lingered, leaving a quiet tension in the air. Neither Alexander nor Damon knew what would come next, but they both understood that nothing was certain anymore.